


The Ship of Dreams

by AmbecaWatson



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Anal Sex, Bisexual Dean, Blow Jobs, Bottom Castiel, Fix-It, Gay Castiel, M/M, Minor Character Death, Minor Injuries, Minor Violence, No Major Character Death, Sexual Content, Spit As Lube, Titanic AU, based on fanart, humping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-29
Updated: 2015-12-29
Packaged: 2018-04-23 23:30:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 40,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4896454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmbecaWatson/pseuds/AmbecaWatson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><img/><br/> </p><p>“Dean, they don’t let any men into the lifeboats,” Cas told them with wide eyes and barely concealed panic in his voice.<br/>Dean thought that that should have been obvious from the get go. The men on this ship were still very much chauvinistic, but in this case it was more like chivalrous, to save the women and children first. </p><p>“We’re gonna figure this out. I tell you we’re not gonna die, and so we’re not gonna die. Neither of us,” he looked at his brother who didn’t look a trifle less terrified than Cas. “We’re gonna make it up as we go. Ain’t no iceberg gonna kill us."</p><p>Aka Destiel Titanic AU with a happy ending</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Notes for this work:

Based on work by the amazing artist: [nella-fantasiaa](http://nella-fantasiaa.deviantart.com/) or [littleboopoo](http://littleboopoo.tumblr.com/) on tumblr.

This story will likely be based on the artist's headcanon and a few of my own alterations to it:

 

Dramatis personae: 

  * Dean Winchester - taking the role of Jack Dawson
  * Castiel DeLacroix Milton - taking the role of Rose DeWitt Bukater
  * Margaret “Meg” Masters - taking the role of a nicer Caledon “Cal” Hockley (Cas’ fiancé)
  * Hester DeLacroix Milton - taking the role of Ruth DeWitt Bukater (Cas’ mother)
  * Anna DeLacroix-Milton
  * Gabriel DeLacroix-Milton
  * Sam Winchester - taking the role of Fabrizio De Rossi 
  * Ellen Harvelle - Molly Brown
  * Joanna “Jo” Harvelle - Ellen’s daughter
  * Bela Talbot - Ellen and Jo's maid
  * Fergus “Crowley” and Lilith Masters - Meg’s parents
  * Charlie Ryan (Bradbury) -taking the role of Tommy Ryan
  * Thomas Andrews - Designer of the ship
  * Bruce Ismay - Director of the White Star Line
  * Bobby Singer - E.J. Smith, the Captain
  * First Officer William Murdoch
  * Fifth Officer Harold Lowe (The officer who went back to rescue people from the water)
  * John Jacob Astor (richest man of his time)
  * Carmen (A French prostitute who causes confusion in the beginning, but not all is like it seems)
  * Adam Milligan - apprentice to the White Star Line and protegee of Dean and Sam 
  * Mr. Lovejoy - A man with strange yellow eyes and a villainous character



Differences to the screen version: 

  * Different to the actual movie, Dean, Cas, and Sam survive the catastrophe.
  * The Winchesters met the first class people before the voyage and there is quite a bit of pining involved until they reunite.
  * The famous heart of the ocean necklace is actually a present from Meg, but not with the implications it had in the movie.
  * Meg's character is widely different from movie Cal's character, she is planning to marry Castiel for convenience and is a militant suffragette.



Also to be read [here](http://deancas-titanic-au.deviantart.com/journal/my-personal-headcanon-for-the-DeanCas-Titanic-AU-293513428) in the artist's words.

 

I will post a chapter weekly, because I plan to make this as historically accurate as possible and it's gonna be pretty long, I think, because I'd like to spend some time with the characters before their journey and afterwards as well. It will not follow the storyline of the actual movie to the dot, and there is no major character death involved as stated in the tags and headcanon. If that interests you, hit the subscribe button and we'll see each other every Sunday.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
> [Art Credit](http://nella-fantasiaa.deviantart.com/art/DC-Titanic-AU-Characters-pt-2-311698294)
> 
> Characters (left to right): Castiel, Anna, Hester and Gabriel DeLaCroix-Milton with Lucifer the cat, and Lilith, Meg and Sir Crowley Masters with their (hell)hound Ruby.

Rue Saint-Martin, Paris, Nov. 1911

Castiel DeLacroix-Milton strutted down one of the most historical streets of Paris, returning from an outing to the Louvre with his now fiancé, Magaret Masters. He only walked so purposefully because his mother Hester, coming up behind him kept a watchful eye on him and he remembered well how she always told him that he should have an air in his manner of walk that convinced everyone that he was better than them.

Castiel felt like he was screaming on the inside about the tight corset of society tying him precisely where he was, yet he knew that a gentleman in his position could never lose his temper, particularly because it was incumbent on him to save the family.

His father, Edlund DeLacroix-Milton, had loved his brandy and his fruitless attempts at novel writing more than to introduce his eldest son Gabriel into the world of high finance. Therefore, nobody had been equipped to handle the family fortune in the times of economic distress and when his father passed away, it was discovered that the family of 4, including Castiel’s sister Anna as the youngest, was now facing financial ruin.

His mother made sure that neither of them ever forgot their peril, constantly reminding them to keep good company and secure connections with the aristocracy to rescue them. Gabriel thus far had not succeeded because he was very lively, his mother thought too much so, and because of his nature and manner, had not attracted a lady yet. His younger sister was not out in society, even though after her husbands’ death, Mrs. DeLacroix-Milton rushed her to make her debut sooner than she would have liked.

At the beginning of the summer, she had abandoned London to go to Paris for the season, because she was well aware of the gaiety of the Paris assemblies and balls, which were the perfect ground to introduce her eligible children to even more eligible company that was lose-pocketed and full of exaltation. Anna had been introduced into society abroad and immediately had many suitors, seemingly making it only a matter of time until she would be married.

Immediately upon coming to town, not only Anna but also Castiel had made the acquaintance of single partners; Magaret, or Meg Masters had been one of them and they had become friends, more than anything. His mother had seen an opportunity in the growing friendship and had therefore encouraged Castiel to seek to be introduced to the whole family and accompany them as a trusted companion on their numerous travels around the French countryside.

Before he knew what was happening, he had been informed that it was high-time he declared his love for young Magaret, with the approval of both their parents, no less.

They had been at the country residence of Sir Crowley, Meg’s father, when a telegram reached Castiel, urging him to take the final step and with a very heavy heart, he suggested going for a ride with Meg the very same morning.

“Lovely, but I’m taking my bow with me. Do you want one too?”

“No, I thank you,” Castiel declined.

“Father, Mr. DeLacroix-Milton and I are going for a ride. Do you want to send the manservant with us?”

“That won’t be necessary,” Sir Crowley said without even looking up from his paper and Castiel knew that not sending a chaperone with them meant he was very much on board with leaving them unsupervised, and therefore in the perfect position to get engaged.

Meg had dragged him off to the horses immediately and asked the stable lad to saddle them, but: “Don’t put a side saddle on mine, please. You’re not gonna tell father, will you?” she looked at Cas.

“No. I find that lady’s saddles are highly impractical and unsafe. Same as the sort of parasols that ladies are holding up while riding.”

“It’s so we don’t get a tan or coarse skin. A fine lady is recognised by her skin looking like flour and then applying creams on it to make it look less unhealthy.”

Castiel flushed, well aware that only harlots used so called ‘make up‘, but Meg laughed about his embarrassed face at her bluntness as they let their horses fall into an easy trot.

“Please do not tell me that you think your mother’s healthy blush in the evening is natural? Pray tell me, from what should she be flushing?”

“I do not know the intricacies of ladies’ behaviour at all, I assure you.”

“No, you don’t, do you?” Meg replied with an expression that was nothing short of sly and Castiel knew that it was no secret to her that he did not show a healthy interest in the fairer sex. 

“Do you know the intricacies of gentlemen’s behaviour then?” she asked, shifting her bow and looking straight ahead, searching for game to hunt.

“I do not know what you wish to hear for an answer to that question,” Castiel said stiffly, not wanting to invite more conversation about the topic.

“My dear Castiel,” Meg said and he flinched about the familiar address. “I do not think I told you that I met Oscar Wilde in Paris company a few times before his death.”

“Did you?” 

“Indeed. And even though I was quite young, I was not unaware of his preferences and how people spoke about them in hushed whispers. I am not unfamiliar with this trait,” she told him with an empathetic nod.

“And how did you find Mr. Wilde?”

“I found him to be very charming and I am really fond of his novels.”

“I am glad that you value him for his qualities,” Castiel said, relieved to know that Meg would not judge him about his own ‘trait’ and was understanding.

“Right,” Meg said brashly and got off her horse, pulling an arrow out of her quiver and aiming up high into the sky.

“Look at that bird, wouldn’t you say it makes for a nice evening meal?” 

Castiel looked up at the sky himself now, squinting his eyes against the sun and then replied: “I feel like it’s majestic in it’s unrestrained flight. If I could beg you not to shoot it?”

“Of course, you are quite right,” Meg agreed and both knew that the time had come now, as Meg let the bow sink down.

“Miss Masters,” Castiel started, sorting through his mind for how best to formulate what he had to communicate. “I wish to tell you that I am very much in love with you and I wish to marry you. My request finds both the approval of our esteemed parents, and I assure you that my affections for you will never waver,” he thought he had done his duty quite well, he spoke with affection, but his heart was unmoved.

“No they won’t, will they?” Meg asked, clearly meaning that Castiel would never really love her, but she nodded and gave him her hand to kiss. “I accept, my dear. I would be honoured to be your wife. You are the sort of gentleman who is reasonable and will never look upon me with a disapproving eye,” Meg obviously referred to how Castiel had reacted about the man’s saddle and the bow she had taken with her. “So, in a manner, we will enter into this marriage on better conditions than most people would, even though not all things are as they seem. It is alright, Castiel. There is no need for deceit or untruths between us. We shall do our duty and carry on as friends, shall we?”

“I thank you,” Castiel said, his throat hurting because he was indeed very thankful for Meg’s understanding and this chance to save his family from utter ruin. 

 

“Lost in thought, my dear?” Meg now asked him as they walked down the street back to their inn.

“Quite,” he replied and forced himself to be more aware of his surroundings. 

When he focused, he saw a young man about his age sit on a folded chair and sketching while his breath came into the air with a huff and his hands were wrapped in shawls to keep them warm.

“Oh, a portrait artist. May we stop, mother?” Meg said, taking her mother’s arm for a minute.

“I am quite frozen, my dear. But if you stay out here with Mr. DeLacroix-Milton, you may linger for a bit.”

Meg and Castiel walked over to the artist while the rest of the company passed on to the Rue de Montmorency and the Auberge Nicholas Flamel in which they were staying.

Sir Crowley stayed behind as well, inspecting the artists’ work, while Meg asked about the cost of a portrait.

“10 centimes, ma’am,” he answered, pronouncing the last word distinctly American so that Meg’s eyes opened in slight shock.

“That is agreeable,” Meg answered and then looked at Castiel, coming to a decision. “If you would be so good as to paint my escort?”

Castiel saw the huddled figure sitting up and was immediately struck by intense green eyes peeking out of another shawl thrown across the artist’s face.

“Very good, ma’am,” the artist said and Meg moved over to her father to examine the rest of the exhibited sketches.

“Do you mind if I correct your posture a bit? You’re in the shade.”

“Not at all,” Castiel heard himself say and the strange American with the incredible green eyes got up from his seat, whereby the shawl around his face slipped off and the two men stared at each other as the artist adjusted Cas’ frame, barely touching his shoulders so that his face was more lighted.

Castiel gulped because the man before him was exceptionally handsome and friendly crinkles showed themselves on his face as he shortly brushed against his chin to adjust it a bit.

“There, all set now. Perfect, in fact,” he said with a short smile and began to work immediately, sitting back down and Castiel heard the pencil scratch on the paper. 

He blushed a bit, knowing that he was far from perfect, but he stayed still, since this wasn’t the first portrait of him that had been done, but he couldn’t help but talk to the artist, wanting to please, more than he could allow himself to feel.

“How is it that you came here, if I may enquire?”

“You may, but please stay relaxed. Your shoulders are tensing up.”

Castiel relaxed again, and the American went on: “Me and my brother wanted to see the world before we took over our father’s business and maybe come back with new or older ideas and concepts. He works with wood and my mother helps him when someone wants their tables painted. That’s where I picked it up. The painting and the woodwork.”

“You’re very crafty,” Cas praised, trying not to move but he caught a glimpse of the artist’s work before he had to freeze again. 

“Yeah, I like working with my hands,” the artist replied, his pen again scratching the paper a bit and invoking within Castiel the mental image of green eyes looking down upon him while nimble fingers traced over his naked body, brushing over his sensitive nubs, but he was thrown back into reality when the man catching his counterfeit talked on. “I mean it’s fun, drawing. It doesn’t exactly pay the bills, but it gives me freedom, if you understand me.”

“Perfectly,” Castiel said and immediately felt reminded of the bird mid-flight that he had wanted Meg not to shoot. 

“Yeah, don’t know how long I can still do this. It’s not getting any warmer and if I don’t sit on the street, nobody stops by. I really need to find work for the winter.”

“That’s nice,” Castiel nearly sighed.

“What? That I don’t know where my next meal comes from?” the other man didn’t seem put out, just curious.

“No, the freedom you must have.”

“And that’s how I like it,” the man replied and took a fast finishing stroke. “There you go, ma’am,” he handed the picture to Meg, Crowley bending over her shoulder.

“You look like a porcelain doll, my boy,” he said with his voice familiarly raspy and jesting.

Castiel flushed and when he saw the perfect picture of himself, he had to agree with Crowley, but he didn’t like how fixed and stiff he looked in it. It wasn’t any discredit to the artist’s work, but he had managed to show him exactly what kind of posture he was showing to the world at large.

“It is very good,” he said, seeing that the artist broke off his tents now and packed his supplies.

“Thank you,” he said and Castiel felt a warm shiver run through his body at the deep, warm voice and the small smile as the artist looked up for a second.

“Where are your quarters, my lad?” Crowley asked.

“Me and my brother are at the hotel just down the next street.”

“It must be the same one we’re staying at,” Crowley answered and apparently came up with an idea now. “Tell you what, my boy. Why don’t you come out with us tonight? I’m showing this young man the amusements of the city.”

“I am not sure I could afford an evening with you, Sir.”

“Do not be concerned about that,” Crowley said with a small wink and gave his daughter his arm while the artist was left to talk to Castiel.

“Where are you planning on going tonight?”

“The red light district,” Castiel rolled his eyes about the destination. “It seems like I am to learn the ways of womankind.”

“I see,” the artist replied, somehow colder than before so Castiel felt it his duty to be hospitable.

“I would be really glad if you could join us. And perhaps introduce us to your brother too?”

“If it’s no trouble,” the artist replied.

They parted in the hall with the steady plans to meet again in the evening.

 

After dinner, there were two men waiting for Castiel and Sir Crowley in the entrance way to the hotel and finally introduced themselves as Dean and Samuel Winchester out of Lawrence, Kansas.

Immediately, Crowley involved both of them in conversation about their father’s trade and that he was quite sure he had seen Winchester furniture all over the finest dining halls in America. 

“We’re not that big,” the younger Mr. Winchester replied, but his elder brother clapped his shoulder.

“My brother Sam here likes the understatement. Our father is the biggest in the industry.”

“How good for you,” Crowley said with a bit of contempt in his voice and Dean who perhaps thought that Crowley was looking down upon him now, filed back and walked next to Castiel, who knew that that was just Sir Crowley‘s way of talking but he sure didn‘t mind to speak more with the handsome American.

“So where are we going now?”

“Montmartre,” Castiel rolled his eyes.

“Moun-… moun-mar-what?”

Castiel laughed loudly about Dean’s inability to pronounce the word: “How long have you been in Paris?”

“A few months,” Dean shrugged, joining in the laugh. “I just never heard it pronounced that way. But then again, I’m mostly around my brother, or snobby British people wanting me to paint them when they stop by.”

Castiel’s laugh died on his tongue and he flashed Dean an angry glance.

“Oh god, I didn’t mean you. You’re so much better than my usual clients, in lieu of a better word,” he frowned, but reassured Castiel with another of his dazzling smiles. “Seriously, all those fine dames that had years of fancy book learning and still go to the only portrait artist in France who only speaks English,” Dean shook his head.

“So I’m special?” Castiel asked, and then he thought to have betrayed himself by speaking in this very ungentlemanly fashion.

“Yeah, absolutely,” Dean answered with an appreciative smirk that made Castiel weak in the knees.

 

Neither of them ventured another remark as they walked on and Crowley ushered them into his favourite club.

Immediately upon arrival, the women working here swarmed around their table and Castiel noticed how the overuse of make up was really quite typical for the demimonde.

Crowley invited several ladies to their table and Castiel was happy to find that the two brothers seemed just as bothered about this as he was. That is until Dean sprang up with a wide smile on his face and tightly hugged a woman with a carefully dressed shock of black hair and feathers in her updo.

“Cherié,” the prostitute said.

“Carmen, my love. How are you?” Dean grinned and held her tightly to his side in a gesture that was so familiar that Castiel’s whole vision shook and he felt tears sting in his eyes about the implications he had received from Dean before which wouldn’t, and could never hold true now. Had he thought that Dean and he shared the same inclination and that he was not the only one with his heart aflutter here? Indeed he had, but as Dean carefully helped steady the prostitute named Carmen who doubtless had had too much liquor, Castiel felt bile rise in his throat.

“Do you know this lovely creature?” Crowley asked, already just as highly intoxicated as the harlot clinging to Dean. “Tell you what, I’ll give you…,” he counted a generous amount of franc bills into his palm and then pressed them into Dean’s hand, “and you go and make merry.”

“I…uh,” Dean didn’t know what to say and Castiel saw a short exchange between the brothers and then the same short interaction between Dean and the prostitute who looked up at the American with barely seen hope for someone in her position, clearly shining in her eyes.

“Right,” Dean said decisively as if that settled everything. “Much obliged, Sir,” Dean said, heading off with the woman and Castiel again felt like screaming and as if additionally iced water had been poured into his veins.

 

Dean needed a long while to come back and Castiel’s thoughts turned ever more bitter the more minutes passed, while Sam Winchester and Crowley were again talking about the Winchester’s trade and Castiel ordered drink after drink of strong liquor. 

The waitress came up to him when Dean hadn’t returned for an hour and introduced Castiel on how to drink something called absinthe. A green liquid was poured out into his glass, a spoon atop it and then Castiel watched as a cube of sugar was put on it, iced water drizzled over it and at last it was set aflame. The sugar caramelised and then Castiel took the first sip of the drink that was commonly referred to as the green fairy, smacked his lips and felt a burning stronger than every drink he‘d ever had set his system ablaze even though the flames were out by the time he started drinking.

Three glasses later, Castiel’s vision was spinning as he saw concerned green eyes stare at him over the flames of his fourth drink.

“Do you not think maybe you’ve had enough?” he said, and suddenly Castiel noticed that he was alone at the table and Crowley was just introducing the younger Winchester to a couple of the patrons he knew all the way across the taproom.

“No, I don’t. I haven’t even started yet,” Castiel bit out with a slur that made him blush, because the drink was indeed very strong and the sugar made it enter his system even faster.

“Well I think you’ve had enough,” Dean said decisively and pulled Castiel to his feet.

“Do can not tell me that, you… you…,” Castiel searched for the worst word for Dean he could possibly come up with. “You colonist!” he finally said, absolutely angry and put out.

“That’s rich, you spoilt little English kid,” Dean said, waving over to Crowley and letting him know with gestures that he was gonna bring Castiel back to the hotel.

“You have no idea about my life,” Castiel slurred and forgot all etiquette even as Dean slipped his jacket back on and carried his sketch book with him under one arm, while the other was thrown around Castiel assistingly.

“Let’s go,” he said, and led Castiel out of the establishment without inviting objection.

Castiel’s head was swimming, but he was angry at being treated like this, still in no position to object until they had reached the arch that was put up in honour of Louis catorce, which would lead them back to the Rue Saint-Martin.

“You cannot treat me like this,” he blundered out, and stopped despite Dean’s pull. “And why are you carrying this stupidity around with you?” he pulled at Dean’s sketchbook which opened and let almost all drawings fall onto the ground.

“I apologise,” Castiel said, because despite his anger, he had not wanted this.

“Leave it,” Dean quipped and had collected most of his drawings until Castiel had stooped down to pick the newest one up, because it said Nov 23, 1911 on the signature and the picture was of the same prostitute that Dean had left with. And she was naked.

“You swine. You utter filth,” Castiel shouted and pressed the paper into Dean’s hand accusatorily. “You take your business to whores?”

“That’s what you think this is?” Dean bristled up and put the paintings back into his book, before he nearly slammed Castiel into one of the smaller ways of the triumphal arch so that they were in the dark. “You don’t have a clue!” Dean shouted at Castiel, equally angry and suddenly Castiel felt hands on his face, roughly pulling it up and lips locking with his own.

He was angrier than he had ever been in his life, wanting to shove the rude American off immediately when instead he found himself pressing himself to him closer, his head spinning from more than just alcohol, groaning and opening his mouth, his fingers on Dean’s face too, while they frantically kissed.

Dean got closer, now distinctly rubbing himself on Castiel, who felt a hunger for something at was certainly not food awake inside him; a hunger like he had never known even existed and had certainly not come up with any other human before.

They started when they heard a loud, shrill laugh out on the street and the moment was broken the second Dean stooped down to pick his ice-crusted sketch book back up which had landed in a shock of too early snow, and grabbed Castiel tight again.

Castiel was ready for more kisses, but he only felt himself escorted back to the hotel in complete silence.

Inside, Dean helped him up the first flight of stairs even as Castiel’s head started spinning heavily again.

“Think of me what you will,” Dean’s voice was distant and sad when his lips brushed Castiel’s one last time, gentle and longing this time, but he dislodged them carefully after that, even as Castiel wanted to pull him close and invite him into his room.

“Sleep off that buzz,” Dean said, and left Castiel to climb up the stairs to his own quarters.

 

In the morning, Castiel awoke, his head pounding and swimming and he couldn’t remember anything after Dean had kissed him in front of his room.

“Kissed me?” Castiel asked the quiet room and sat up too quickly. The handsome American artist had given him his first kiss last night and Castiel had been and was still too buzzed to properly remember and value it.

He clasped the bedframe, uprighting himself and nearly spewing out the remainder of last night’s alcohol as he now dimly remembered doing in the night as well, even as he found the evidence of his exuberance in his washing bowl and on his waistcoat.

“Oh dear,” he said, but still continued to make himself presentable, talking to Dean the only thing on his mind.

He slowly got down into the breakfast room and found it nearly empty except for his own party, and slowly sat down on a chair that Meg pulled for him.

“Here,” she handed him a cup of tea and after he slowly drank it without it coming back up, he could utter his burning question.

“What happened last night? And where are our esteemed American friends?”

“You were not yourself last night, Castiel,” Crowley said over his paper, sounding disinterested and really very much not like the man who had handed Dean whoring money last night. “The elder Mr. Winchester was kind enough to take you home safely. The gentlemen have already left early this morning, because after you had retired, the younger Mr. Winchester read in my paper that there was work for them to do. By now those kind young Sirs are probably already on their way to Belfast.”

“Belfast? Why there of all places?” Castiel asked, desperation and the threat of hurling once more in his subdued voice.

“The White Star Line still needs carpenters and interior designers for this new steam liner of theirs. Surely you’ve heard of it. It’s the same build as the Olympic and it goes by the name of Titanic.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always felt like the storyline of Titanic was a little too rushed to make for a story that could happen in real life. Three days are a frenzy, but not really love. Therefore, I decided that Dean and Cas would already have met before they see each other again on the ship. And what would those two be without a bit of pining for the other? ;) 
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> [Art Credit](http://nella-fantasiaa.deviantart.com/art/DC-Titanic-AU-Characters-pt-1-309740572)
> 
> Characters (left to right): Dean, Sam, Mary and John Winchester.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've removed the 'period typical homophobia' tag now, because I feel it doesn't really cover what is happening here. The characters are very accepting of Dean's and Cas' inclinations, but bear in mind that homosexuality was illegal in the times we're talking about here because that explains a lot of the later secrecy and an incident before the sinking which will come up later.

_Belfast, January 12, 1912_

“Dean? What are you doing?”

“Nothing, Sammy,” Dean sat up at the wobbly table in their sparse quarters with a start.

Things had gone from bad to worse after their stop over in Paris. They had found new work, but Sam insisted they’d find the cheapest accommodation in all of Belfast to be able to save their money for a passage on the very steam liner they helped to build at the moment.

His brother got out of the wobbly old bunk which gave a decrepit sound as he heaved himself out and Dean swore he saw it sink in more to the bottom now.

“Please tell me you’re not still reading that horror story?”

“No?” Dean asked, quickly hiding _Futility, or the Wreck of Titan_ under a couple of last weeks newspapers which was the only thing they were able to afford to get a fire going in the mornings at least.

Sam crumbled the paper into a ball now and saw the well-used disaster novel which had been the only luxury Dean had allowed himself ever since they left France.

“Get into bed and stop reading that. That’s not gonna help if we’re actually planning to take the Titanic back home.”

“You’re right, Sammy,” Dean sighed and scrambled into the top bunk. He had insisted on taking it, because although his build was a little stockier than his brothers’, he was still overall lighter and smaller and he didn’t trust to sleep with his brother’s weight maybe upturning or breaking the bunk above him.

He laid down fully clothed, and dragged two thick blankets over himself as he felt the metal quiver piteously around him and Sam climb back into bed with another sigh as well.

“Why do you insist on reading that? Incidentally, why are you all doom and gloom right now?”

“I told you,” Dean said simply, a desperation pooling in his gut the only thing that had kept him warm throughout the coldest months of the year.

“Dean, forget him. You don’t even know his name and you know he’s loaded, right? It’s not like he’s ever gonna be the right one for you. And you know what happens when people find out about this?”

“I know, I know. I just wish I could see him again.”

“Get it out of your mind, Dean. Let’s focus on getting us home, alright? Where we can actually sleep in a heated room again.”

“Yeah, sounds good, Sammy. Good night.”

 

In the morning, Dean woke up, not feeling the least bit rested and he could have sworn to have seen blue piercing eyes stare at him in his dreams.

And just like whenever he couldn’t or didn’t want to focus on his miserable existence at present, he picked up the story of Morgan Robertson again. The sinking of the Titan was tragic of course, but he liked the second half of the novel better, when the former deckhand of the ship actually survived the crash, by climbing on the iceberg that upturned the boat and made his fortune later on. He even got himself the girl of his dreams and everything else he had wanted.

Dean carried that thought inside of himself as he and his brother got their coats and went down to Harland’s & Wolff’s Shipyard where the largest passenger liner known to man was towed at the docks with the largest scaffolding ever created constantly carrying up new material to build into it, it seemed floating and towering above the workers who brought it to completion, all consuming people and work hours as if they were nothing.

“Hey there, Adam,” Dean greeted a kid that he and Sam had gotten to know because they were frequently deployed to do the carpentry for the same suites and cabins.

“Dean, Sam. Good to see you,” Adam said, taking a look at the enormous ship like every morning before they went in, it being only illuminated by the lamps that were needed to get the loading of material done because it was still pitch black winter darkness all around them.

“Do you know what’s our job today?” Adam asked as they walked closer to the gigantic ship.

“Yeah, first class for a change,” Sam told them after marching over to the roster, showing them the suites on B deck they were gonna panel and paint today.

“Great,” Dean sighed, not really looking forward to going on board again because whenever he couldn’t see the sky above himself anymore he started feeling sick and queasy. Not to mention that the inside of the ship was just as dark as the outside until they turned their working lamps on, which was only allowed once they were actually in their designated working space to not waste any oil. But it had to be done, he told himself as the three of them filed into the dark ship and made their way through it through the by now familiar hallways, to make their way to the B deck, finding other workers in the adorning state room who were just about ready to start too.

“So, I was thinking me and Sam do the heavy lifting, and you fit it all together. Then after lunch, we smooth it down, put the ornaments on and then we’ll see if we can put the first layer of lacquer and oil on it. Might be good if it had time to soak in overnight before we go on,” Dean shrugged, seeing the heavy wooden panelling they were to put together today, which seemed a bit too dry already, most likely from not being properly stored away. His father would freak out if he ever saw the state of the wood, Dean thought. But they could help make it better, he conceded, no harm done yet.

“I can help with the lifting,” Adam bristled up.

“Look, Adam,” Sam shook his head, him and Dean already filing out to heave a big panel into the suite. “Why do it if you don’t have to? Besides, me and Dean are stronger than you and we don’t tire so easily. Remember what happened to Ryan yesterday?” he alluded to a boy of Adam’s age who had outdone himself in trying to be helpful and had carried heavy panelling into the ship all by himself. On his third round, he had upturned the panel he was carrying and had fallen to his death off the side of the ship.

“I remember,” Adam said with a frown and a heavy sigh. “He was a friend.”

“Yeah, and now he’s gone,” Dean said, clapping the kid’s shoulder in a gesture that was meant to be comforting. “So no need to follow him, right? Weren’t you the one who told us how many people had already died while building this thing? Might make a good story to tell it again,” Dean said, while Sam just sighed about more doom and gloom emanating from his brother, but also seeing that it would pass the time to have Adam tell them about all the jobs he had already done on this ship to provide for his mother and himself.

He had been around the building of the ship ever since the first iron plates were congregated, laminated and bolted together and he had good men die to build the gigantic steam liner.

“So how many is that, including Ryan?” Dean asked when they drank thin coffee substitute made from turnips that Adam’s mum had made for all of them, their first hours of the day going by quickly with the hard work they had to do, and finally providing them with actual sunlight which fell in through the portholes and the opened door to the promenade leading off the parlour. Adam‘s stories about all he had learned on this job passed the time as well, because he had lots to tell. Having finished school at age 11, he had immediately taken up a job here, seeing all the changes in the by now 3 years of Titanic’s build.

“8 people died,” Adam said, a number that seemed vaguely ominous to them all, because Dean shivered, down the last rest of his drink and got up again. “Well, guys. Nothing for it, the work ain’t doing itself,” even though he quietly thought that the number was actually not as high as could be expected and that the security of their jobs was higher than most, if you didn’t count the about 250 accidents that Adam had also witnessed or had heard about.

They spent the rest of the day, smoothing the too dry wood down and to the surprise of them all, they actually managed to apply the first layer of oil and lacquer to the entirety of it before the end of their shift.

They exited the ship in the same darkness in which they had entered it in the morning, and with a groan they saw that their work for tomorrow not only included finishing the state room they had been working on today, but to floor the promenade deck that went off it.

“Sleep well, tomorrow’s gonna be rough,” Dean said to the kid who just went home to his mother and sighed even more when the foreman announced that tomorrow they were to be inspected by the actual architect of the steam liner, and the director of the White Star Line himself; Thomas Andrews and Bruce Ismay were gonna keep a sharp eye on the workers‘ progress. Mr. Andrews was a very friendly man and had actually lent a helping hand on his ship more than once but Mr. Ismay was still an unknown authority to them.

“Can’t expect to much from a guy who’s name rhymes with dismay, huh?” Dean said to Sam in an attempt to be funny, but Sam only sighed exhaustedly, yawning deeply as they went back to their frugal quarters and Dean‘s mind was troubled and dark again now that he had the luxury to think.

 

_London, 13th January 1912_

“Mr. DeLacroix-Milton, would it be a great burden upon you to accompany my husband to Highgate prison today?” Castiel received a call from Mrs. Lilith Masters in the early morning hours.

“Not at all, but if I may be so bold as to enquire what’s the occasion for this rather unusual request?”

“Magaret has been arrested again. It was already a few days ago, and it has not been possible to retrieve her from prison earlier. I understand that she is incarcerated with the most vile personnel of the WSPU and they did not take any nourishment for over 5 days.”

“With whom is she incarcerated?” Castiel asked, aware that there was a rift currently ongoing within the Woman’s Societal and Political Union and that it was important to know which branch Meg had chosen.

“She is quite close to the offending Emily Davison who so cruelly attacked Mr. Churchill and she has been affiliated with her in prison as well. She shares a cell with Mrs. Pethrick-Lawrence who led the smashing of the windows upon our arrival back in town and Mrs. Pankhurst herself.”

Castiel sighed quietly, and nodded to himself; Meg was one of the most prominently upspoken people about woman’s suffrage, but lately her encounters had taken a turn to the worse because demonstrating peacefully was one thing, looting and attacking government officials was something very different.

“I told Sir Crowley to let her rot in prison for her to learn her lesson, but he is apparently rather worried because his daughter has not been able to keep any of the nourishment to herself, so kindly provided by the prison guards, and she appears to have caught a bit of a cold.”

“I understand,” Castiel answered, shivering himself about the cold tone in Mrs. Master’s tone. “I shall pass by the apothecary on my way to Sir Crowley and enquire about medication immediately.”

“How good of you,” Mrs. Masters answered and then ended the call formally.

 

When Castiel saw Meg, he was very much perturbed about Mrs. Masters assessment of the situation. Meg was thinner than he’d ever seen her, this not being her first stay in prison, or indeed hunger strike. And the definition of ‘kindly provided food’ did not in fact include violent rashes of rope burn, bloodily bitten lips and a throat so raw that Meg could not make herself understandable by any means of human communication. And the ‘bit of a cold’ that her mother had mentioned turned out to have been a case of hypothermia which through being left untreated and not countered by warm clothing and medicine, brought Meg to come down with a violent case of abscess-forming pneumonia.

Castiel took in her appearance when they were in Sir Crowley’s hired carriage and her whole apparel was so cold and dirty to the touch that it was not hard to imagine that it had been thoroughly wet and had taken days to dry in a dark, confined cell alongside 8 other women distributed over 4 bunk beds in very much the same situation.

“Is this really worth it, child?” Crowley asked her, softer than Castiel had ever heard him speak, but immediately there was fire in Meg’s eyes that told him without words that women’s suffrage and the struggle to obtain it was worth every bit of fighting spirit she still possessed.

Castiel remained quiet as he helped Meg out of the coach and she clung tightly to both his and Crowley’s arm and let herself be escorted inside where she was received by two fluttering, gushing maids and a stern frown from her mother.

“I’m putting a call in with Mr. Lovejoy,” Mrs. Masters told them even as Meg slowly walked up the stairs to her room. “We’re gonna need him back. And I’m removing our daughter from this company. I’ve booked passage to America for us all,” she stated in a manner that left no room for objection.

 

_Belfast,  January 14th, 1912_

Dean, Sam and Adam were already exhausted by 10 o’clock, and their muscles were swore from hammering the planks together on the promenade deck. They took a breather for 5 minutes, but knowing that the inspection had just started, they took up their oil cans and applied the next layer of dark oil to the panelling inside the state room, just when Mr. Andrews, Mr. Ismay and a gentleman unknown to them, entered the room.

“Dean, Sam, good to see you again,” Mr Andrews nodded at them and actually shook Adam’s hand. “Still at it, my lad?”

“Yessir,” Adam said with a smile, even as his lean arm muscles shook when he raised his oil dipped brush to reach the ceiling.

“Looks like you could use some help,” Mr. Andrews said, taking off his fine jacket and rolling up his sleeves, and accepting a spare brush from Dean, while Mr. Ismay and the other man didn’t even say a word, let alone lift a finger to help.

“So I hear you booked passage now?” Mr. Andrews asked the brothers conversationally.

“Yeah, paid a whole of 7 pounds each,” Dean told him and then nervously looked towards Mr. Andrews company.

“Oh I forget myself. This is Mr. Bruce Ismay, director of the White Star Line and his man Mr. Lovejoy.”

“Not for much longer Mr. Ismay‘s man,” Lovejoy said and when Dean looked at the man with his ice grey hair and smirk, he could have sworn that his eyes shone yellow, of all colours, for a second. “I just had a telegraph that Miss Lilith needs my assistance again to take charge of her daughter. A suffragette of all things, and a militant one at that. Can you imagine?” he asked Mr. Ismay who answered him in a very sonorous disinterested voice.

“Quite incomprehensible, women would not be able to vote if their lives depended on it. They’d vote after sympathy.”

“And it’s so much better to vote due to party allegiance?” Dean spoke up, knowing that that was how the voting went everywhere.

“Indeed it is,” Mr. Ismay said, seemingly a bit put out at Dean addressing him like he just did, but he was too much of a gentleman to let his irritation show. “It is based of loyalty and family tradition,” and Dean saw a shimmer of white in Mr. Ismay’s eyes that couldn’t have been there, same as there was no yellow in Mr. Lovejoy’s eyes. ´He was just tired and had worked too much. The acidic paint must have gotten to him.

He turned to work again, because it seemed like Mr. Ismay had proven his point. “We’ll just continue the inspection of Deck B without you, Mr. Andrews?”

“No, certainly not,” Mr Andrews smiled apologetically to the three young man and put his borrowed brush down. “It was very good to see you again.”

“I say,” Mr. Ismay interjected. “I will be looking forward to continuing our acquaintance when we’re all aboard the ship, though I fear we may not see much of each other, seeing as you hold a steerage billet and I a first class one. But I am sure we’ll meet again.”

“Not if I can help it, you limey bastard,” Dean muttered under his breath as the gentlemen left to continue their inspection. “And I don’t wanna see that valet of his again, either.”

 

The inspection of the B deck took them so long that by the time they came back around, the workers had sat down to their usual quiet lunch so they could hear Mr. Lovejoy’s voice carry through the corridor.

“Yes, and apparently Miss Masters was taken ill, and Sir Crowley will take them all to America on the very same ship we are standing in right now. It’s like everyone who’s anyone will be travelling with the Titanic.”

“I should hope so,” they heard Mr. Ismay answer him. “Did you hear that even Sir John Jacob Astor is booking?”

Dean didn’t care who this Astor guy was as he jumped up and practically ran into the hall now, not minding his brother’s protests.

“Did you say Sir Crowley would be doing the passage as well? Is he taking all of his children with him?”

“Good gracious, my lad. You startled me. And what do you mean, all of his children? He only has one daughter.”

“Oh, I… It’s just when I stayed in Paris, I got to know Sir Crowley and he was accompanied by a young gentleman.”

“That would be Miss Margaret’s fiancé.”

“Fiancé?” Dean asked himself, his gaze turned inwardly and a very bitter feeling was pooling in his gut. He had thought that the man he had kissed and painted was Miss Masters’ brother, because their hair was similar and their faces looked alike, a little on the broader side and friendly when they smiled, but he had apparently deceived himself.

“Are you alright?” Mr Andrews now asked Dean.

“Sorry, Sir. Just a little tired, I guess,” Dean nodded and went back to work, blinking a sting out of his eyes that could be nothing other than the effects of the paint, he told himself as he wiped them, and willed himself not to feel and just to function until he could get back home.

 

* * *

 

_April 2nd, 1912_

“So, that’s actually done it?” Dean asked the others while they watched the finished ship leave the dock they had walked to every day for the past 6 months and Sam and Adam nodded with a pleased sigh even though he’d have to find new employment now because the White Star Line didn’t plan on building more ships any time soon. The Olympic and the Titanic were gonna sail the seven seas for many years to come, or so they thought.

But young Adam at least had learned so much that he was basically equipped to start learning with any smith or carpenter in Ireland and so he was happy to have his time as a shipbuilder end. What he wasn’t very happy about was having Dean and Sam go back home to America now, leaving as soon as they could for Southampton.

Before they left though, Adam’s mum invited the Winchesters over to dinner to thank them for keeping her boy safe and to ask them if they thought that she should seek better conditions of living on the other side of the pond as well, because even here in one of the remotest parts of Europe they could not close their eyes to the beginning national conflicts of the continent and even though they didn’t suffer, living in the more industrial part of Ireland, even within their own country the tides rose high and it seemed only like a matter of time before everyone would be at each other’s throats.

“You gotta decide, ma’am,” Sam told her when they were jammed into the Milligan’s tiny kitchen, elbow to elbow on their old, scuffed kitchen table. “If you really feel that it would be better to pursue your happiness elsewhere then by all means, take your chance. I know our father always needs handy young apprentices who know their way around wood,” Sam clapped Adam’s shoulder and Dean nodded.

“Yeah, if you’d find your way out mid-west to us, we would not forget about you and your kindness.”

“Do you really think Adam could be in your line of work?”

“Oh, we’d find a place for him, for sure,” Sam nodded. “And if it turns out that he wants to do something else we could also teach him to get by in the wild and to handle sticky situations.”

“Because that’s what our dad taught us too,” Dean added. “You could even go out further west and open a store or something. Land’s really cheap out there.”

“That sounds wonderful,” Mrs. Milligan said and then helped everyone to stew, apologising profusely that she had to replace the meat in the dish with more roots and onions. Dean assured her that it was fine, but silently he dreaded having to travel with his brother and his particular digestion after a meal such as this.

 

_London, 2nd April 1912_

“Another course?” Castiel whispered to his mother to his right side. “I don’t think I can eat any more.”

“Be quiet, Castiel. The Masters have invited us and so we’ll dine to the fullest. It will be one less we’ll have to buy.”

Castiel nodded with a sigh and then saw the ninth course being delivered to their table.

“Mint ice cream,” Hester said with a pleased nod. “Also a very good palate cleanser for when you and Sir Crowley retreat to the smoking parlour and take to the brandy.”

“Mother, I do not wish to-”

“Stop talking nonsense, Castiel. You will go,” Hester interrupted him immediately.

“Why can’t Gabriel go?” Castiel pouted, slowly letting the ice settle on top of his Canapés à L’Amiral, Boeuf Bourgignon, creamed carrots, wine jelly, chocolate souffle and various others that he couldn’t even remember anymore.

“Because Gabriel has to stay out here with the women to secure one of them,” Hester hissed at him and Gabriel rolled his eyes at him in her back. “If he can find someone, you maybe wouldn’t even have to marry that incorrigible suffragette at all.”

“But I gave her my word as a gentleman,” Castiel frowned.

“Oh don’t be so daft, Castiel. The only reason why I have not dissolved this engagement is because we need the money.”

“I can’t understand you, mother. Just a few months ago you gave me no other choice as to propose to Meg and now-”

“Well, a few months ago she did not do the things she does now. Mrs. Masters told me that Mr. Lovejoy had to restrain her, otherwise she would have joined that infernal Ellen Pitfield with her arsonic plans a month ago.”

“That’s all they were, mother. Plans, and in my opinion a mere scare tactic. Mrs. Pitfield had nothing to lose and I find it respectable that she cares for women’s suffrage so much as to go through such lengths even when she has no hope to profit from the developments herself.”

“But she isn’t even a member of that party,” Hester made a face as if the WSPU was a festering wound at the very bottom of society. “I reckon it is very clever of Mrs. Masters to remove her daughter from such company as she would doubtlessly be affiliated with them once she got arrested once more. And now go with Sir Crowley and assure him of your love for his daughter,” Castiel’s mother said when Crowley got up and invited all the man to take alcoholic refreshments in the next room.

Castiel followed his summons while Gabriel remained seated and threw his brother a quiet nod of sympathy.

 

“Mr. Hershey, how good to see you,” Crowley said while taking a seat next to him and motioning for Castiel to sit down at his side. “Was that your chocolate that was used for the excellent souffle we just had?”

“Alas, no. The chef does not think it of much consequence,” Mr. Hershey answered Crowley.

“I hear we’re to be graced with your esteemed company on our passage?”

“That was the original plan, but business calls me home earlier. The wife and I will go to Germany and board the SS Amerika early. Might be able to warn your ships about the bergs, too,” he laughed and afterwards talk turned to politics and business with various people stopping by to talk to Crowley and Castiel making pained conversation with them as well.

He was thoroughly bored until long past midnight when he was allowed to return home, dreading the day that they were to set sail, because on the ship, he would not have a single minute to himself and had to represent the image of happiness to the entirety of the first class, when he’d much rather be a hawk flying over everything that seemed so mindless to him, or just take the freedom but relative poverty of a portrait artist in Paris who would probably never leave his mind again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the incidents concerning women's suffrage, the building of the Titanic and Mr. Hershey's cancelled passage are true facts.  
> It is also true that the SS Amerika was one of the ships to warn the Titanic about icebergs on its route across the Atlantic ocean.  
> Morgan Robertson's book was published in 1898 and minutely predicted the sinking of a gigantic ocean liner that sank precisely where the Titanic was to meet her end 14 years after the publication of the novel.


	4. Chapter 4

_Southampton, 10th of April 1912_

The Milton household was all aflutter at the earliest hours of the morning. Nobody but their mother Hester actually liked to sleep in anymore, it seemed to decadent for their situation, so her three children were already dressed and breakfasted when a maid was still finishing their mother’s toilet.

It had been decided that Gabriel was to remain behind and that only Castiel, Miss Anna and their mother were to set sail with the Masters. Hester seemed determined to literally ship her daughter off and present her to any of the eligible bachelors on board and later in American society where she heard that fortune was easy to make, and by this point it didn’t matter to her if her daughter’s future husband was to be nouveau rich or not, she just wanted to avoid the connection between Castiel and Meg by all means possible.

Castiel often sighed when he thought about his mother’s schemes and he thought himself quite content with his situation. He could have it worse. Meg was amiable and Sir Crowley made for interesting company, only Mrs. Masters seemed much the same as his own mother, and he did not much like her. He wished neither of them to do the passage with them, but since he could not come up with any reason why they shouldn’t, he found himself at the pier where the Titanic was docked at 9:30 sharp, both the unwanted maternal units stowed away in the cars that Sir Crowley had hired for the occasion.

Those motorcars looked flashy to be fair, but Castiel did not much like them, nor the sounds that they made as the engine stopped working. He much preferred horses, but if he could believe Sir Crowley, those vehicles were the transportation of the future.

Sir Crowley himself went to the gateway where the billet control was set up. Two men with freshly starched uniforms of the White Star Line, wearing straw hats to make them appear friendlier than they were, checked their six tickets for 5 parlour suites, because it had been decided unsuitable for Meg and Castiel to share one before they were legally married, which Castiel was very grateful about indeed. He knew before long, he’d be expected to share a bed with Meg and he wasn’t overly keen on the idea.

 

At the same time, only a few yards away across the dock, two people in a very different situation stared up at the ship they helped to build while they moved forward in the queue that would bring them to the health inspection.

“They’re really gonna check us for lice and shit?” Dean asked his brother and gave a short, apologetic smile to a woman waiting in the queue before them. “Pardon my French, mademoiselle. Me and my brother here spent time in the actual France and now that we’re going home I think I picked up a few bad habits along the way.”

“That’s quite alright, good Sir,” the woman was obviously flirting with Dean now and Sam nudged him in the arm to get his attention back.

“What?” Dean whispered as if nothing had happened. “Not my problem that those damn English girls are so stuck up and don’t know what to do when they’re flirted at.”

“Tone it down,” Sam replied. “And anyway, weren’t you craning your neck for a glimpse at the first class people earlier, searching for a certain someone?”

“Shut up, Sammy,” Dean coloured and then moved forward, feeling utterly humiliated as his hair was parted by an officer and his lip lifted up to check his teeth.

He wanted to laugh when it was Sam’s turn and he was actually standing in line for much longer because a lot of time was needed to inspect his greater amount of hair.

When he was finally done, he frowned at Dean, his head snapping to the side with attitude and he stalked off to board the ship, his gait rigid and still frowning when he showed their tickets to the officer on board.

“Step right in,” they were told and then were once more aboard the the very steam liner they had helped to build.

While they marched over to the E deck which they knew how to get to even should they sleep walk, they saw an assembly of all kind of different people, quite a few of them standing in front of the signs directing them into certain directions.

“I’m sorry pal, I don’t speak Chinese,” Dean told someone who packed him at his lapels and shook him a bit before they could move on. On the way to their cabin, they heard at least 70 different languages and where glad that the men they shared their room with, could at least speak rudimentary English. They were from India but had decided they had enough of the empire and wanted to apply their knowledge about fabric and their traditional garments to the American society.

“People will love it,” Dean assured them and thought that soon he’d see many people dressed in saris and other Indian clothing everywhere. But he didn’t doubt that the American industry would use those influences to their own liking and use the patterns to make quilts or something dumb like that. Dean sighed heavily, also because even after all this time in the bowels of the ship, he still didn’t like it and already felt a bit queasy from looking outside.

“Sammy, I need air. You coming? Saying goodbye to ‘jolly old England’, huh?”

“Yeah, sure,” Sam agreed and got up from a more solid bunk bed than the poor excuse for one they had slept in the last couple of months.

Coming on deck threw the brothers right into the middle of excitement because a lot of people stood around them, waving to their loved ones back down on the ground and once they found an opening they squeezed in and watched what was going on, passer bys remaining there to wave to the passengers above them as well and within a minute, Dean was waving too, saying goodbye to unknown people but not able to withstand the moments’ excitement. He knew that most people here didn’t know what they would find once they reached America, but the buzzing promise of adventure and a new life lay in the air.

 

On B deck, things looked widely different. Sir Crowley made sure all their goods and in particular his safe was stowed away securely and the ladies fluttered about, yelling at their maids to hang their dresses correctly. That is to say, Mrs. Delacroix-Milton and Mrs. Masters did, while Meg and Anna sat around with Castiel, waiting for their mothers to calm down.

“Miss Masters, tell me. Are you saddened to leave the struggle for suffrage behind?” Anna asked.

“No, not in the least. By the time I’ll return to England, I’ll join the movement once more. There is nothing that mother can do to stop me. We will get the vote, I can tell you that. And none of what Asquith is proposing loudly in parliament now. Women over 30, in possession of land? Please, that rules out just about anyone.”

Castiel nodded politely, knowing that Meg was right about the entire matter, but also incredibly bored with the conversation because he had heard it too often already.

“Why don’t you take an airing, Mr. DeLacroix-Milton?” Mrs. Masters now told him. “I say you look paler than Margaret and she’s recovering from a small fever after all.”

Meg opened her mouth in protest of the belittlement of her illness and her struggles and since Castiel knew what fights between them looked like, he took the offered opportunity for a quick escape.

He walked out onto the deck, just when the Titanic started to take steam and walked around for a few hours, not wanting to go back in, not wanting to stay out here and greet all the rich people he knew he should remember the names of, but didn’t. Instead he watched England disappear as the gigantic ship made it's way to the French coast, slowly picking up speed as the new boilers started their work.

After what seemed endless hours he clasped the railing, looking to the front of the ship and taking in the colourful mixture of laughing people down on the steerage plank, no matter of ethnicity or gender, they laughed together, happy that they were on board and moving on to fulfil their dreams, while Castiel wished for nothing more than to have the sort of freedom that the immigrants must have, even if he'd have to take the insecurity of not knowing what was to become of him alongside the novelty.

 

Down on the deck Castiel was watching, Dean and Sam just made a new acquaintance. Dogs, doubtless from coming down from the first class were being led around on their deck and a voice said next to them: “First class dogs coming down here to take a shit,” pronounced in a woman's voice with a strong Irish accent and Dean looked up because he felt reminded of young Adam so much. The woman caught his eye and smiled. “Let’s us know where we stand, ay?”

“As if we could forget that with all the bars and that damn health inspection before,” Dean nodded to her and got up, holding out his hand to introduce himself.

“Dean Winchester.”

“Charlotte Ryan, but you can call me Charlie,” she said.

“Sam Winchester,” Sam introduced himself too, getting up as well and shaking Charlie’s hand. “What brings you onto the ship?”

“Well, my mother died recently and I was left with nothing except for my education and this," she showed them a slip of paper with a familiar name on it.

“Thomas Edison? Are you to work for him?”

“Ay,” Charlie nodded. “Mum made sure I had the best tutors and sent me to a university where I learned all about that technical stuff. I had to sell anything we had and what was left got me a passage on this ship here.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Dean told her, already liking her very much and seeming to strike an instant friendship with her.

Together, the three of them watched the life on deck, commenting and laughing about things that seemed funny to them until Dean looked up to the first class deck and said: “They all look like assclowns in monkey suits, don’t they? Uh…” he wanted to apologise to Charlie, but she had already started laughing and told him he was right.

He smiled, thinking that she was very different from the ladies of their time but then he forgot all about everyone except for the familiar shape he saw standing above them, facing their deck.

His gaze zeroed in and as if by some miracle, the person on the other deck turned his head and found Dean in the middle of the crowd.

Recognition dawned on both faces, followed by a wide smile in Dean’s case and a short, subdued smile from Castiel.

Dean moved on to wave enthusiastically just when Sir Crowley, their other Paris acquaintance, entered the scene on the higher up deck as well, seeing Dean immediately and waving much more enthusiastically than his future son-in-law had just now.

He motioned down to the gate between their decks, telling them that they were to go there and Dean got up from the bench, looking at Sammy to come with him while Charlie only smiled on with amusement and followed them from a safe distance away, wanting to know more about the chance meeting she had just witnessed and the blissed out expression on Dean‘s face telling her that she was not to expect a reply from him just yet.

“Hello boys,” Crowley grinned and shook both their hands once the two men had made their way down to them.

“Hello Dean,” his blue-eyed companion said, another of his half smiles on his face. “Samuel,” he nodded at Sam.

“So, you’ve made it,” Crowley rubbed his hands. “We must get together again, you’re such great company. What do you say, want to dine with us while we’re on this boat?”

“Oh, Sir Crowley, we couldn’t. We’re not fancy enough for the company you keep.”

“Nonsense, my dear boy. I’ll tell you a secret. Nobody is really fancy, they just pretend to be. Tell them you own a goldmine and they won’t care about your plain outfits and manner. Now, now. No more objections," he said when Dean and Sam still didn't look too sure of his proposal. "You‘re meeting with us and we’re having dinner. Lord knows I need some entertainment with the lady folk all at each other‘s throats,” he nodded to Castiel as if to say he should encourage the young Americans more.

“We would be honoured if you’d join us for dinner,” he said formally, his and Dean’s eyes locking.

“Well then,” Dean grinned flirtily. “We’ll see you later then,” they shook hands again, and both seemed reluctant to let go.

Dean watched them even as Sir Crowley and his friend moved away and when Dean finally came to again, Sam looked at him with concern.

“Slippery slope,” he said opaquely, clapping Dean’s shoulder. “Try not to get caught at least.”

“I take it you know those guys?” Charlie now came up behind them.

“Yeah, we kinda do,” Dean said, trying to wipe his stupid grin off his face, but that was not really possible because he felt just too happy.

“Well, have fun dining with the fancy folk then. But you gotta make sure to come down to the slaves’ quarters. We’re gonna dance and I’ll play the fiddle.”

“You can do that?” Dean asked, impressed.

“Can’t be a proper Irish girl without playing an instrument, dumbass,” Charlie nudged him. “Anyway, even if this other thing I have lined up doesn’t work, I can still join a travelling band.”

“A woman of many talents you are,” Sam chuckled and they spent the rest of the afternoon talking with Charlie or other passengers to keep Dean topside as long as they could.

 

Around evening, the Titanic stopped in the waters of Cherbourg in France where she was to take up more passengers, among them Mrs. Ellen Harvelle, her daughter Joanna and their maid, Bela Talbot.

History would come to know her as the unsinkable Ellen Harvelle and stylise her as the most emancipated woman of her time. Even while she was boarding, she carried in her luggage herself, telling the steward in that raspy voice for hers that everyone had already heard of, whether they knew her or not associated with her, that she wasn’t gonna get old and grey waiting for them to get her stuff.

While she and her party filed in, she greeted people left and right, Mrs. DeLacroix-Milton and Mrs. Masters among them who had taken their hatred for each other to their afternoon tea.

“Ladies,” she smiled and through social obligation was greeted back by the superior women.

“That vulgar woman is doing the passage too? Oh, such a gold digger she is,” Mrs. Masters told her companion as they walked back to their cabin.

“Quite right,” Hester said as they entered their parlour. “I heard she and her husband burn money for fun.”

“Are you talking about Mrs. Harvelle, mother?”

“Indeed, Castiel. Mrs. Milton and I agree that she is nothing but a common gold digger, wouldn’t you say?”

“No mother, I don’t agree. When she became Mrs. Harvelle, they both had no money whatsoever. They married for love, to clarify if it is the sort of thing that an opportunist like you can't understand.”

“Castiel!” Anna said scandalised, looking at her shock struck mother, who had never heard her youngest son speak to her in such a manner.

“Excuse me,” he said and left the suite once more, seeking fresh air on a different deck then before because he didn’t want to repeat the meeting with Dean from earlier. In the mood he was in right now, anything might happen if they met again, he was reckless and he might end up doing something capitally wrong.

He moved on to the rear of the ship, ruthlessly jumping the gate separating them and staring back at the growing darkness of the first day of their journey coming to an end and clasping the railing tightly once he got to the very end.

“You’re not trying to jump off this boat, are you?” he heard a voice in his back and closed his eyes tightly against the familiar low rumble he had wanted to avoid, because his heart reacting palpably to it.

“Not at all, I assure you, Dean.”

“You know you have me at a disadvantage here, right? I never got your name.”

“Castiel DeLacroix-Milton,” Castiel’s name rolled off his tongue quickly.

“Yeah, I’m gonna have you to write that one down for me,” Dean chuckled and Castiel got really put out with how the smile and the presence of the American worked on him after all those months of separation as he whipped a pencil and paper out of his waistcoat and started to write his name out.

“That’ll do,” Dean chuckled happily, pulling the sheet of paper from him and reading the three letters Castiel had been able to put down before he was so cruelly interrupted. “Cas. That’s better,” Dean grinned and took a step closer to the newly rechristened Castiel.

“I’ve been thinking about you, y’know?” he whispered, looking around if they were alone but it seemed like absolutely everyone was going to dinner now.

“Really?” Cas said excitedly before he checked himself, trying to tell himself that he wasn’t moved by Dean’s words, or his smell, or his voice, or his entire appearance.

“Oh yeah, every morning and every evening even when I thought I wouldn’t ever see you again. And now I’m very glad that I did,” he smiled, moving in even more and stroking Cas’ cheek without any disgression, the months of separation making him too bold to squander this chance now. “I wasn’t able to get you out of my head,” he let him know in a low whisper just when a loud trumpet announced dinner for the first class.

“We should go in,” Castiel whispered, reminding himself of Dean’s liking for French lowlife women and trying with all his might not to lean in and feel those lips on his again.

“Yeah ok,” Dean mouthed, holding Cas’ wrist and then because he wasn’t gonna be allowed to kiss him for real, he kissed his knuckles instead.

“I always wanted to do that. Saw it in a nickelodeon once,” he elaborated, kissing each and every one of Cas’ knuckles until he shivered violently.

“I very much doubt that it was like that,” he got out, his treacherous fingers of his unclaimed hand reaching out to trace Dean’s jaw line, giving his face a happy expression, but they weren’t to continue this because Cas saw his mother coming out onto the deck from the corner of his eye. Immediately he took a step back from Dean, holding their hands so that Hester would not see them.

“Castiel, what are you doing there? Come in for dinner!”

“Coming, mother,” he said, turning to Dean and asked: “Shall we?”

“Sure,” Dean grinned, knowing that he wasn’t rejected, however cold Cas appeared at times right now.

When they reached the upper deck though, the livréed attendants stopped Dean in his tracks.

“Sir, you are not dressed to dine.”

“What? I was invited by Sir Crowley Masters, he said it would be fine.”

“I very much doubt that,” Castiel’s mother now said and it seemed like the perfect time for the strangely yellow-eyed manservant Lovejoy to join the scene.

“What’s the matter here?”

“Good that you’re here,” Cas spoke up. “Could you get Sir Crowley to sort this out. Mr. Winchester and his younger brother received an invitation to dinner and those gentlemen here won’t let him in without proper attire.”

“Certainly,” Lovejoy said and went back in, coming out 5 minutes later, bearing the news that Crowley denied all knowledge of the incident, resulting in Dean being led off the deck and back to the steerage one with a bruising hard grasp.

“Tell your buddy Crowley, thanks for setting me up,” Dean fumed when Cas stood by, watching in horror.

“I can’t fathom why…,” Cas pondered but then caught a sly glimpse of Lovejoy’s smirk and knew he had never called Sir Crowley and just didn’t want Dean in, probably on orders of his former protégée and now employer Mrs. Masters.

“Terrific,” Cas groaned as his mother took his arm and gently but firmly nudged him to the door. He could only throw another meaningful glance at Dean meaning he would come down again as soon as he could get loose but he wasn’t sure if Dean really got his meaning because of how forcibly he was escorted away.

 

Dinner dragged on, Castiel not even realising what he was eating and only mumbling to Sir Crowley about the reason why none of the Winchester brothers had turned up for dinner, and Sir Crowley colouring deeply of rage for his wife and her manservant.

“That bloody snake,” he said angrily as he escorted Cas out of the dining room around midnight. “Could you go down there again and give those boys our sincerest apologies and that it won’t happen again? I’ll cover for you should your mother want you.”

“I thank you,” Cas smiled at Crowley and within another 10 minutes he was out on deck again, the air cold and biting as he hopped over the gates again, finding Dean lying on a bench and staring up into the sky.

“I must apologise, this was a terrible misunderstanding. Sir Crowley didn’t even know that you were there. Did they hurt you?” he asked, closing his overcoat against the biting cold.

“Neh, nothing I couldn’t handle. I got to my brother in time to tell him that he shouldn’t bother,” Dean got up, and Cas’ gaze zeroed in on Dean’s blue lips.

“Aren’t you freezing? Were you out here the entire time?”

“Yeah, I was. I’m not good with being inside of this thing, y’know?”

“That won’t do, you’ll get sick. Follow me unobtrusively.”

“Unobtrusively?” Dean imitated Cas’ accent and smiled as they jumped over the gate between their decks once more and Cas ushered him past the dining room and onto B deck.

“Wow, you’re living in this suite?” Dean asked, recognising his own handiwork when Cas had led him into his room.

He turned with two of his swimming suits in his hands to see Dean examine the panelling and how well it had come along since he’d last seen and worked with it.

“So you really helped build this ship?” Cas asked, now taking Dean to something that his mother had proudly told him about before they boarded the Titanic.

“Yeah, me and Sam got our tickets that way. It was hard work, but I can always use that as a reference, eh? That I was there when they built this thing. And speaking of things… What is this thing?” he looked around himself.

“It’s a Turkish bath,” Cas answered him, and handed him one of the swim suits he had brought. “Here, take this and meet me out here when you‘re dressed.”

“Why’re you doing this?” Dean asked, holding Cas by the hip as he wanted to take a changing cabin. Cas blushed about the far too familiar touch on himself, but didn’t flinch away, yet only moved closer.

“Because I assume that you don’t have a hot bath in your own cabin and you look quite cold.”

“Thanks, Cas,” Dean smiled, still touching him before he turned and dressed himself in his own cubicle, Cas still feeling his touch searing hot on himself, and wondering what was happening inside the other changing room right now.

He shook himself, it wouldn’t do to meet Dean again in an aroused state but he still stared at him indecently long when they met again and the other man’s shoulders looked broad and his arms very muscly, same as the parts of his legs that Cas could see.

“Hey, there is a pool through here,” Dean told him. “Can we do that first and then sit in that other thing? I’ve never seen an indoor pool.”

“That’s because is actually the first, or one of the first ones. It’s not entirely clear,” Cas told him as they lowered themselves into the water.

“That’s so awesome.”

“I agree, it is quite awe inspiring,” Cas replied and then wondered why Dean smirked at him again until he said: “Race you?”

“Are you sure you can keep up?” Cas teased him. He had been a swimmer at Eton and he had always finished his competitions first.

“Are you?” Dean gave back and sped off faster than Cas would have given him credit for. He swam off after, trying hard not to see how Dean’s muscles flexed and how his skin glistened.

He in the end blamed his distraction for losing capitally and he bravely endured Dean’s speeches of victory as they moved over to the Turkish bath again and got into the much hotter, smaller pool.

Until then, they had been surrounded by other passengers as well, but now it seemed that it was growing so late that everyone was on their way to bed.

“Hey, I think since I won, I earned a reward from you,” Dean teased Cas.

“And what would you like?” Cas asked, oblivious as to what Dean meant when he felt himself pressed against the basin wall and Dean all over him.

“I want another kiss,” Dean breathed, moving in closer and groaning slightly as he slid into position on top of Cas, carding his fingers through the small hairs at the base of Cas’ neck and nuzzling him until he turned his face up.

“We can’t do this, someone could see,” Cas breathed, a mere inch between them, trying to stop this and knowing and counting on failing; losing this little struggle was all he wanted in this moment.

“Nobody’s here,” Dean reminded him and then pressed his lips onto Cas’.

Their kiss was just like it had been on that night in Paris, only this time Cas wasn’t intoxicated by any substance, only by Dean’s taste and his warmth all around him. He moaned into the kiss, touching those strong shoulders and exploring Dean’s body because he finally could.

The kiss was familiar, it felt good and a million happy pangs tickled his stomach, but he staggered when Dean came even closer and something hard pressing into Cas’ crotch.

“Oh, I…,” Cas tried to object, but he knew he couldn’t fool Dean. He was just as hard as him, and as soon as he started rubbing over Cas’ intimate parts, he really didn’t want anything but to keep going.

Cas felt himself on the edge, actively searching for Dean’s mouth again, even as he humped in time with him and held on tightly, clinging to Dean’s back because he had never felt these exquisite delights before.

A surprised gurgle escaped him when he orgasmed, holding on to Dean even as he smiled at Cas and then screwed his eyes shut, orgasming too, his head falling onto Cas’ shoulder.

Dean touched Cas’ body now, stroking and flicking his nipples underneath the fabric, lifting the garment off of Cas’ crotch to wash the whiteness out of it and then doing the same to the trunks he was wearing.

Both of them were silent now, only the noise of the slowly sloshing water around them.

Dean gulped when their eyes met again, still stroking Cas and both of them sighed happily when he pressed their mouths together again for an eternity, both of them only stopping from starting to rub together again, when they heard someone close a door in the other room.

Dean climbed off Cas quickly and after a quick glance they decided they had pushed their luck for long enough. But Dean didn’t seem to want to let go yet, actually going into the same changing room as Cas and more holding on to him then getting dressed again.

“I gotta see you, not just over dinner. Like this,” he pressed out, desperation in his voice. “I know you’re engaged to marry and all that, but Cas. You don’t want her.”

“No, I don’t,” Cas agreed, the haze of his first orgasm and everything about Dean loosening his tongue. “I want you.”

Dean suddenly smiled very happily, pressing Cas against the wall behind themselves, and actually trying to _un_ dress him, stroking more and licking his tongue over Cas’ lips and into his mouth, but they couldn’t go on because they heard Lovejoy’s voice now.

“Mr. DeLacroix-Milton, your mother is waiting for you.”

They stopped immediately, waiting for very quiet footsteps to disappear again, but instead dressed in the mean time when it wasn't what they wanted to do at all.

“Do you think he’s seen us?” Cas asked, trepidation in his voice.

“I don’t know,” Dean replied, not too preoccupied it seemed about anything that was not Cas, because even when they were proper again, he looked at him regretfully. “What a body you hide under all those clothes, Cas. One of these days I’d like to get you out of them again.”

He cupped Cas’ crotch, rubbing sweetly and treasuring the visual of it he had gotten while they put their clothes on. Cas too was very eager to see Dean without anything on again too and couldn’t believe his boldness when he licked into Dean’s mouth once more, hooking his leg around the other man in a very undignified way and let both of them feel that they were hard again.

“Please tell me I’ll see you tomorrow,” Dean breathed at him and Cas only nodded before getting on his feet again and parting ways with Dean for the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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> [Art Credit](http://nella-fantasiaa.deviantart.com/art/DC-Titanic-AU-The-First-Time-I-Saw-You-294078135)


	5. Chapter 5

_11th April, on board the Titanic:_

By the time Dean came below deck, most of the formerly Irish immigrants were very intoxicated but still playing their instruments with force.

He stayed for a bit, loving the music which he had grown accustomed to and which he actually thought he’d miss when he got back home. Also, he kept a supervising eye on Charlie who seemed to have too good a time.

“Alright, missy. Time to get you to bed, I think,” he said another hour later, with several of the more rowdy folk eying Charlie up already.

“Spoilsport. I was just starting to have fun. There is this cute Danish girl and I think I really have a chance with her.”

Dean escorted her off before she could say any more and he hoped that nobody had heard her or even understood her.

“You should be careful with saying things like that, particularly around people you don’t know.”

“Well, I know you won’t mind,” Charlie winked at him. “Seeing as you look like you’ve had a very pleasant evening with someone from the first class.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Could’ve fooled me, Dean,” Charlie snickered. “Everything about you screams happiness, so I’m thinking you got lucky tonight.”

“I don’t know what you mean by that,” Dean desperately tried to sound indifferent. “I do not engage in premarital activities.”

“Ah, picked up the lingo of your fine friend too, I see. Please spare me more tirades, Dean. We both know that there is no marriage for people like us. My mother was very sure to tell me that. It’s not easy being catholic, you know?”

“Let’s talk about this when you’re sober, ok?”

“Yeah, let’s do that. And then you can tell me why else you’d look like the cat that learned to use a tin opener and just stole the best piece of tuna it ever had. I’m glad you’re happy,” she sighed, her head drooping onto Dean’s shoulder who helped her into her cabin, greeted by shrieks of her fellow travellers.

“Not to worry, girls. I’m just bringing my cousin here to bed, she’s had a little too much to drink,” he addressed the dark room and hoped that Charlie shared quarters with English-speaking people and he wouldn’t get an umbrella to the groin as he helped her into bed.

Luckily there was no commotion, only hastily grabbed blankets to hide any bit of skin he could possibly see in the pitch black darkness of the cabin.

“Good night, ladies,” he rolled his eyes as he left the cabin and Charlie to sleep of her liquor.

“Did you have a good evening?” Sam whispered as Dean came into their own cabin, and even though Sam could hardly make his brother out in the darkness, he recognised through his posture and happy humming in his throat that Dean was finally completely happy again.

“The best,” was the whispered reply as Dean climbed into the lower bunk and went to sleep, thinking of Cas before he dosed off.

 

Around the time his mother got up, Castiel was sitting in his room with his sister and Meg, not knowing when he should go to Dean. Did the other man sleep long, now that he didn’t have to work hard for a couple of days, or would he already wait for him on the aft side of the ship?

Anna was just complaining about having to dress afresh in about an hour and Meg chimed in with the observation that changing clothes six times a day was absolutely ridiculous either way and don’t get her started on being inside a bloody corset all day, to which Anna and Castiel blushed but nodded, when Mrs. DeLacroix-Milton entered the suite and told the girls to leave her and Castiel alone.

Cas didn’t think he’d hear anything to his liking now and should be proven correct in an instant when his mother began with: “Castiel, I forbid you from seeing that boy ever again.”

“I peg your pardon, mother? I don’t know to what you’re referring.”

“Don’t play coy. Mr. Lovejoy has reported to me and Mrs. Masters about what you and that low life rat have gotten up to. Just imagine telling me my son has been alone with another man for hours when I was assured you‘d be with Sir Crowley. Imagine how that made me look?” Hester marched back and forth across the room now, her heavy gown brushing over the carpet with every step she took. “I do not think that she suspects about your affliction yet, Castiel. But I believe if she were to find out, we’d be in dire trouble. Nobody would want to be associated with us anymore. I can not understand what you were thinking.”

“I was being hospitable, mother. Mr. Winchester was quite frozen and needed to warm his bones. I thought it prudent to provide him with the facilities on board this ship, so he’d not catch cold. He is to dine with us this evening and we do not want him to infect any of you, don’t we, mother? With ladies having such a peculiar low tolerance for bacteria that you yourself fancy yourself ill if you’d only caught a whiff of cold air,” Castiel said, his posture rigid, and his words colder than any wind ever was.

“I do not like this tone you’ve assumed. Must be the fine influence of your steerage acquaintance. And I also do not care for your scientific nonsense. You have completed your studies, there is no need to ever mention them again.”

“I am to learn things and then do as I was told either way even if I know better?”

“Yes, Castiel. That’s how society works, the gentry has always held it so.”

“Not anymore, mother. In case you hadn’t noticed, the entire country is slipping. Parliament wants liberation, which has assumed a new sense now, no longer does it mean loyalty to the crown, but power for the elected representatives. Liberté, mother. Like in France. Society is changing; the Edwardian, late Victorian era is over and with it, the privilege of the upper classes.”

“Never so long as I shall live, will it be over,” Hester huffed, her skirt whipping angrily on the floor.

“It will be, mother,” Castiel assured her. “It just takes one event, one tiny stone to upset the bloated sense of importance within the empire and it will fall once and for all.”

“Why do you torture me with these horror stories, Castiel?” his mother cried, bringing forth her handkerchief and crying imaginary tears into it to leave the upsetting topic behind. Castiel only waited until his mother’s performance was at an end, and she regained her composure.

“You will not see this boy again, Castiel,” she repeated. “Once you’re married we can find you someone to toy with, but not while things are as uncertain as they are for us right now.”

“That will hardly be possible, mother. Dean and his brother will dine with us this evening, Sir Crowley has made sure to inform the attendees of their invitation and their presence will not be obstructed once more. And furthermore, I am not accepting you speaking to me like this again. I am not in need of ‘someone to toy with’, I much prefer Dean’s company.”

His mother flinched at the familiar address and the expression on Cas’ face as he said Dean’s name.

“You are really wanting to risk everything, just to be with him?”

“Yes, indeed,” Cas said steadfastly. “What do you fear could happen, mother? There is nothing they will do about it, we won’t lose footing over this.”

“Perhaps not, but I do not trust Lilith Masters to let this slide without wanting revenge. She will do something unspeakable, I just know it. I am sorry, Castiel,” his mother said unexpectedly and Castiel blinked in surprise. “I know how much it must mean for you to find someone you like and who you can’t be with. The choice is obviously yours, but think of your siblings and perhaps of me too. We can not afford to lose this connection with the Masters over this or we’re ruined. I’m not even talking about our fine things being sold off, I’m talking about bankruptcy prison for me or your brother as the creditors will undoubtedly pin some of your father’s debts on him. You and Anna would make your way undoubtedly, Sir Crowley would surely pay tuition for you to learn a profession, and Anna could work as a seamstress until you earned enough money to keep her in your household.”

“Now you are speaking of horror stories, mother. No such thing will happen, and perhaps you should not have read as many novels as you have.”

“Little Dorrit is a reality, Castiel,” Hester shook her head about Castiel alluding to her favourite Charles Dickens novel. “I am sorely afraid for your brother remaining where he is. Perhaps he’s already been held accountable for,” she finally said down, her handkerchief now needed indeed.

“Please do not trouble yourself, mother. I will send a wire to Gabriel and enquire about his well-being.”

“I thank you, Castiel. That would really ease my heart.”

“And afterwards, I will take a tour of the ship with Sir Crowley. And Dean,” he said with a final word, nodding at his mother and making his way without allowing her more room for objection.

 

What Castiel didn’t tell his mother was that he first went down to the third class deck, found Dean already waiting there and only afterwards they went to send the wire to his brother.

“Good morning, Dean,” he greeted the other man who tried to get over the gate with as much dignity as he could muster and Castiel held out a coat he had brought for him. “So people don’t stare down your nose at you.”

“Thanks, Cas,” Dean grinned and Cas smiled fondly at how much he had missed to hear this voice, but he reacted with a frown at Dean’s next words.

“And what do you mean, morning? It’s almost lunch time. Or maybe that’s just for the simple folk and you and your kind only just got up.”

“My mother holds it so,” Cas nodded, thinking back of the conversation with her he’d just had. “I do not, however.”

Dean only nodded, trying to keep his distance from Cas so that it looked appropriate to the other passengers.

“So where are we going now?”

“To send my brother a message.”

“From a ship?” Dean asked with a tone as if it were impossible.

“The Titanic has a telegram office.”

“Yeah, but that’s for nautical messages,” Dean said.

“Not entirely. A few important messages from passengers are acceptable.”

Dean nodded again, but whistled when they saw the queue in front of the counter. “A few you say? There are at least 20 people waiting here.”

“I’m sure they all have important messages to send,” Cas said with little to no conviction as Dean and he fell silent and listened to people wanting to make sure that their butlers had ordered the right Japanese cherry blossoms for their party decorations, or if their daughters had returned the vile grown they had worn at the last ball.

Dean raised his eyebrows at Cas, who only shrugged and when it was his turn, gave clear words as to the point of his message.

“Your brother is in trouble?” Dean asked quietly, seeing high piles of personal nonsense messages being delivered while the station for receiving of nautical messages was empty because the two telegraphs were too busy accepting more messages from the first class passengers.

“We all are,” Castiel mumbled when he had finished writing out the message for Gabriel to wire back about the state of things at home. “My family has financial trouble.”

“Shit,” Dean cursed under his breath. “How much do you need? I can lend you 20 bucks,” Dean said, knowing that if Cas took him up on that offer, he’d have much less to bring back to mother and father, but that’s who he was; offering things he had worked very hard for to someone he liked who was in need.

Cas chuckled lowly, shaking his head about the sweet attempt to help while Dean seemed very pleased with himself for being able to make Cas laugh.

“Keep your hard earned money, Dean. It’s not the sort of trouble that would go away with that low a sum. I don’t mean to patronise your helping gesture,” Cas said immediately because Dean started to frown. “To give you an estimate: Sir Crowley paid 870 £ for one parlour suite and we occupy several.”

“And he’s not broke after that?” Dean asked as they found two empty deck chairs to sit in.

“He paid for those tickets with interests,” Cas said and Dean’s eyes went wide.

“I need a moment,” Dean said, and Castiel noticed for the first time that Dean had brought his sketch book with himself.

“Can I take a look while you get your wits back?”

“Sure, but don’t throw a fit again,” Dean smirked, thinking back of their time in Paris.

“I am resigned not to,” Cas said, receiving the a little battered looking leather bound book and went through all of Dean’s drawings once more.

“You have a hand for anatomy,” he complimented when he saw several nude drawings of women and men alike. “Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot,” Dean answered, coming over onto Cas’ chair to see what he was looking at right now.

“I don’t plan to shoot, I merely want to ask a-” Cas started but interrupted himself when Dean started to grin. “A metaphoring use?”

“Yeah.”

“Right,” Cas coughed and discreetly showed Dean a drawing that involved two men in an intimate embrace. “Are any of the models you used um… you ?”

“No, the maestro does not paint himself.”

“But you had relations with the depicted?”

“Why do you ask me that?” Dean seemed stunned.

“Just no make sure that I won’t find my face in here too,” Cas said, biting his lips when Dean softly took the book out of his hands and showed him several pages of Castiel’s own face, drawn from memory, and the later the drawing date, the more it deviated from the original. “I couldn’t remember your face after a while so I went back to the first drawing and tried to redo it over and over and I never got it right. But, to answer your question: I did not draw any of the people I had relations with in this book.”

“I find that hard to believe since I’ve seen a new drawing appear in Paris after your stay with a woman.”

“What, Carmen?” Dean asked, softly smiling as he ruffled through the book, and Castiel felt a fire burning inside him that that smile was not directed at him right now, until Dean showed him how often he had painted the prostitute.

“There she is with a few friends, see how they help her up? And there she is with her kids, smiling. She’s always kept her smile.”

Cas looked at every picture of the woman those Hispanic origin was palpable even in Dean’s black and white drawings until they reached the last one of her and Castiel finally knew why Carmen needed people to steady her.

“Why did she lose it?”

“It got crushed in a run in with a carriage, the doctors had no choice but to take it off. And still she kept her happiness about herself. Look at her,” Dean showed Cas the picture with Carmen and her kids again. “She’s beautiful. And I wanted to show every aspect of her beauty. Not to mention that money that Crowley gave me? She’s only waited for a break, you know? To find new work with a big ship coming in to tie her kids over. She’s sent me a letter when Sammy and I were in Belfast. She’s working now, sowing with electrical machines and she’s the best at it, because her muscles don’t cramp when she paddles with the wooden leg, minimal pressure and all that.”

Cas heard a shrill laugh from one of the women taking a stroll on the deck and was suddenly aware of his surroundings again, too enthralled by Dean’s story before, but now realising that he had absolutely overreacted about the drawing out of context and he felt like he should make it up to Dean.

He looked around, saw a bench and dragged him over there, whipping out Sir Crowley’s morning paper which bore little traces of Lovejoy’s ironing of it anymore as he unfolded it, gave Dean an end to hold so that it was directly in front of them, as he leaned in, giving the other man a deep, apologetic kiss.

“I’m so sorry for my behaviour back then,” he whispered, kissing Dean again and again until they had to fold the paper or people would get suspicious.

“You really must be, otherwise you wouldn’t have risked that,” Dean grinned happily, pulling Cas up now to move forward and showing great interest in the gymnasium.

“Hallelujah, it’s completely empty,” he grinned, pulling Cas into the corner farthest away from the door, kissing him more.

“It’s good for us that the people on this boat don‘t really like to exercise,” he smiled, crowding in on Cas, rubbing together but Cas wasn’t sure if this was a good idea, there was nothing here to wash stains out of his clothing should he orgasm again.

He was ever so surprised when Dean stopped kissing him and knelt down in front of him.

“What are you doing?” Cas asked, Dean fumbling with his trousers and reaching in to pull Cas’ erection out.

Dean looked up, smirked again and closed his mouth around Cas, letting him sink into his mouth.

“I’ve never even heard of someone doing this,” Cas said, balling his fists at his side as Dean moved his head on him, tight and perfect.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asked, Cas slipping out of his mouth. “Can’t you handle this?”

“Please don’t stop. I’ve just never done something like this,” Cas said, softly moving his fingers through Dean’s hair as he went back to what he was doing before, driving Cas out of his mind because the sensations on him were just too much. He hadn’t even touched himself before this, let alone think of someone doing what Dean was doing right now, his tongue doing something to the very front of his erection that made him grunt, without being able to decipher what it had been, Castiel felt the same rush as before wash over him and when it was over, he looked down at Dean, white robes in his mouth and on the outside.

“I… oh,” Cas fidgeted, utterly satisfied but unable to find any words for what they’d just done as he saw Dean swallow something and lick the corner of his mouth while giving Cas a downright sinful look.

In this moment, the door to the deck opened and Lovejoy stuck his head in.

“Mr. DeLacroix-Milton, your mother sent me to inform you that the tour of the ship will start in three quarters of an hour and you are required to assist.”

“Thank you,” Castiel said, his cheeks glowing like the setting sun because Dean still knelt in front of his crotch and he could only hope that Lovejoy hadn’t seen his penis.

The manservant went out without another word, and Cas redressed himself, panic on his mind because even though he had hardly known what was happening, Lovejoy couldn’t be as unaware as he had been.

“We need to get out of here,” Cas said, pulling Dean with him and stumbling right into his mother, Mrs. Master and Mrs. Harvelle.

“Hey there, sugar. Haven’t seen you all trip,” Ellen greeted Cas with a handshake and a discreet gesture for Dean to wipe his chin. Cas looked up and saw Dean’s spitslick lips and a last bit of white before he wiped it off, not even batting an eyelash, while Hester stared at the both of them as if she wanted to crush them under her heel and Mrs. Masters pretended or really was busy with her dog, Ruby, who she carried around with her.

“Mrs. Harvelle,” Cas tried to take control of the situation and calm down about the events jumbling now. “How good to see you again. May I introduce Mr. Dean Winchester.”

“Winchester, like the rifle?” Mrs. Harvelle said, waggling her eyebrows for Dean to take the hint, and pretend to belong to the family of the famous gun makers.

“Quite right, ma’am,” Dean answered.

“Mr. Winchester and his brother will dine with us while we’re on board. You should join us, Mrs. Harvelle. Our table wasn’t filled last night, and I’m sure mother and Mrs. Masters would love to have you.”

Lilith and Hester looked at Cas as if they wanted to strangle him, but they obviously could do nothing other than to second Castiel’s words.

They were still making polite and forced conversation when Sir Crowley, and Mrs. Harvelle’s daughter joined them, followed by Bobby Singer, the Captain of the ship, and Mr. Andrews who greeted Dean like a long-lost friend.

“The captain of the ship himself is giving us the tour?” Ellen beamed at the bearded man with a bit of a sourly look to him as she took his arm and started the walk. Sir Crowley in particular seemed not happy about that and actively abandoned his wife to walk next to the Captain and focus all his attention on himself.

Dean and Cas walked together, listening more to the conversation of the men in front of him than to the fatigued sighs and calls for strong male arms to keep them up from where the older women walked in the back, always followed by equally miserable sounds from the dog.

Joanna Beth and Mr. Andrews walked next to Dean and Cas and she was just asking him about the number of lifeboats on board.

“I’ve seen 16, but that is only on this deck.”

“There are also 4 foldable ones, my child,” Mr. Andrews said next but Dean had to jump in at this moment.

“But Mr. Andrews, we built 48 lifeboats for this ship, didn’t we?”

“Quite right, my lad,” Mr. Andrews smiled at him, but then shook his head. “I was overruled in putting them all aboard, because Mr. Ismay and others were thinking the deck would be too cluttered with more boats. I will have to convince them to add more for the next crossing but the ship was rushed from the docks to keep the deadline.”

“But excuse me if I ask, why we have even left the harbour with insufficient lifeboats?”

“Because we’ve taken the bare minimum according to regulations. And I leave it to your good judgement about the value of such a regulation,” Mr. Andrews nodded at Ms. Harvelle and then addressed them all again. “Don’t worry, I have built you a strong ship, and Mr. Winchester made her beautiful.”

Castiel saw many people on the side lines of their little trip taking in every word that Mr. Andrews said about the newcomer (but obviously not about the lifeboats because that was in no way interesting) and he knew that when they sat down to dinner tonight, Dean would have to nod and say yes to being called the heir to the Winchester fortune while also being celebrated as one of the building entrepreneurs of the glamorous ship they were travelling on.

“There will be many vultures out for your head tonight,” Cas rasped at Dean when they reached the bridge and Captain Singer started to explain about all the controls and the nonsensical fact that the bridge had two steering wheels.

“The one in the smaller room is just for show. They built it specifically for the press to take nice, flashy photos. Idjits, the lot of them.”

“What a peculiar thing to say,” Mrs. Masters blinked irritably and her dog barked loudly to what she said. “I’m afraid I can’t continue this tour, as you see my pet is quite distraught. Sir Crowley?”

“Quite right, love. Take Mrs. DeLacroix-Milton with you, she looks quite fatigued.”

“But darling, surely you must escort us back.”

“It is more than I engage for, I assure you,” Sir Crowley smirked at her and then turned to Captain Singer to ask him about the ships’ capacities and speed.

Dean grunted out a laugh which he disguised as a cough when the ladies made their way back to the cabins to change and fume.

The rest of the tour brought them past attractions that Dean and Cas had already seen and used to their advantage, while Mrs. Harvelle and Sir Crowley seemed to outdo themselves for the attention of the Captain.

“I bet you five quid he chooses Crowley,” Dean whispered into Cas’ ear and Cas coloured, particularly because Lovejoy had now joined them and his peculiar eyes shone maliciously whenever he caught their eye.

“We shouldn’t talk about such things,” he whispered back, getting distracted while looking at Dean’s mouth and recollecting what he had done with it earlier. “Where have you learned to do that?” he asked, knowing Dean was thinking about the very same thing. “On second thought, please don’t tell me. I don’t want to know about anything concerning previous acquaintances of yours.”

“Are you sure?”

“Quite. I would not be able to bear the thought of it.”

“Then you can imagine how I felt when I found out you’re not Crowley’s son, but to marry his daughter.”

“Because I have to.”

“You don’t like her?”

“I don’t like any woman that way, though I like Meg like a sister.”

“What are you two gushing about back there?” Mrs. Harvelle called and Castiel coloured again at her indecent interruption, but he knew she didn’t have the most polished manners.

“Nothing of import,” he replied and she only laughed raspily, asking a question about the four furnaces they saw while looking up.

The tour of the deck went on for another while until the younger Winchester joined them, wondering where his brother had been all day.

Mr. Lovejoy’s eyes widened and a smirk came on his face that made Dean shiver and stand in front of his brother protectively as he came up in his usual attire of a shirt that had seen better days, same as his trousers and shoes.

A few seconds later, not giving anyone time to prepare, a loud fanfare sounded across the deck, announcing that it was time to change for dinner.

“I don’t get why they’re always announcing dinner with such a racket,” Mrs. Harvelle said.

Mr. Lovejoy grew eager to escort Sir Crowley and Cas back to their quarters and Cas could only cast one smile back at Dean before he was hoarded off.

The captain excused himself to make his round on the deck and up to the bridge before rejoining them at dinner, leaving Dean and Sam with Mrs. Harvelle and her daughter.

“Well, boys. Looks like you two don’t have anything to dress in. Come with me, I have something you could use, though we might have to let out the seams for the taller Mr. Winchester.”

“No need to trouble yourself, ma’am.”

“You can put the ma’am away when you’re talking to me, boy. I ain’t no different from you kids, and I’ll not have you going into that snake pit and not at least looking the part. They tolerate speaking without a stick up your butt when you at least look like you’re part of the club. C’mon, chop chop,” she commanded and the brothers followed her and her daughter to her cabin where she dressed both of them in suits that, giving what Dean knew now must have cost more than he could ever hope to afford.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Art Credit](http://nella-fantasiaa.deviantart.com/art/DC-Titanic-AU-No-One-s-Gonna-See-293090074)


	6. Chapter 6

“Look at you two shinin’ like new pennies,” Mrs. Harvelle said when the Winchester brothers were dressed fully, even though her maid Bela still hemmed Sam’s trousers anew.

“The suits were for my Bill originally, but hell, it’s not like he hasn’t gotten enough of ‘em.”

“Thanks, Ellen,” Dean thanked her, grateful that someone who travelled in first class was as down to earth as her.

“So what are you boys up to when you get home?” Jo asked, her long, blonde hair in curlers and a cheeky smile on her face.

“Just getting back home and see how our folks are,” Dean answered.

“That reminds me,” Ellen spoke up. “You know when this first started, my Bill had a partner in his business. Your daddy, to be precise, I’m sure you remember it?“ she looked at Dean who remembered faintly about hearing something like this when he was much younger.

“Ain‘t it curious that I find you here on board this ship of all places?” Ellen shook the past off with getting up from her chair and going on: “But anyway. They had a falling out as they say, and so Bill went out west alone to dig up some gold and your dad didn’t want any of the profits, just because it would’ve meant he’d have to talk to Bill again. But I say, screw this. You boys deserve better than that. Make your own business, or whatever you wanna do. We’ll be sure to visit you as soon as we’re off this boat because heaven knows it’s been long enough since I saw your mother. And if you won‘t accept the money, we’ll find some way to help you make your way. Whatever you need.”

“I don’t know what to say,” Sam started, and Dean saw that his younger brother didn’t seem to want to politely decline Mrs. Harvelle’s offer, but saw his old dream of being a man of the law live up again.

“We can talk about all this later,” Ellen answered. “Now we gotta get into the shark pool and pretend to be amused by them. Care to escort a lady to dinner?” she offered Dean her arm, while Sam escorted Jo into the dining hall.

If the Winchesters hadn’t helped build the stairway to the first class dining room they would have been impressed by the grandeur of the staircase and the immaculately laid tables. But since they had witnessed most of the furnishings on board, they looked at it just as disinterested as the rest of the passengers, and by their boredom and fancy clothes, it was made absolutely evident that they were part of the club before they had even reached their destination.

They moved into the room where Ellen pointed out the table where Sir Crowley and his party were already assembled, alongside Mr. Ismay, Mr. Andrews and Captain Singer.

“We’re a little short on women at this table so you’ll have to sit next to Mr. DeLacroix-Milton,” Sir Crowley said, pressing Dean’s hand and the older Winchester sat down with a saucy smirk for Cas to which he blushed crimson.

When Cas looked up to see his mother literally spewing fire with a mere gaze, he chose to ignore her as best as he could for the rest of the evening.

“How are you?” he asked, smiling at Dean fondly, leaning in a little.

“Hasn’t changed much in half an hour,” Dean winked. “I’m great. I’m with you after all.”

Cas smiled happily, but asked earnestly: “Are you nervous?”

“Hell yeah, your mother looks like she wants to fry me.”

“Not just you, she-” Cas broke off because the waiters started bringing the first course and they only now when they moved away from each other noticed how close they had been while talking.

“What is this stuff?” Dean whispered at Cas when black, slimy stuff was spooned onto his plate with a miniature spoon.

“It’s caviar,” Cas whispered back when the waiter came over and asked Dean how he wanted his.

“Not for me, please. I never did like it much.”

Cas snorted loudly and smiled at Dean while shocked gasps came from the other side of the table where the elder women sat.

“I think they all hate me now,” Dean grinned, looking at the cutlery on both sides of his plate. “Is that all for me?”

“Yes, just make your way from the outside to the inside,” Cas whispered, just when an unobtrusive waiter retrieved Dean’s unused caviar fork.

“Got it,” Dean whispered back and watched gleefully as his younger brother ate a bit of the slimy fish eggs and tried to disguise his disgusted cough with drinking a big sip of water.

“So what’s next?” Dean asked and let out a, to Cas very adorable, disgusted sound when the waiters came close with oysters.

“Down in steerage I would’ve had Irish stew by now,” Dean grumbled as he waved the oysters away and smiled happily when Cas followed his example.

“I don’t think I ever had that,” Cas said, and Dean described the dish to him, adding an anecdote about how he had suffered when Sam had started digesting Mrs. Milligan’s mostly root and onion stew.

“I’m telling you, the smell,” by now both Dean and Cas were laughing loudly, Sir Crowley joining in when he enquired what was so funny, and Sam blushing when Ellen next to Dean demanded to hear too.

“What a charming story,” Mrs. Master said icily when the next course was placed before them.

“Pâté de foie gras,” Cas told Dean before he asked.

“Sounds awfully French to me, had enough of that for a long while,” he said, watching the big crust of fat on top of the dish and waving it off too. “Please tell me that there is something edible on the menu?”

“You’ll like filet mignon and the rest of the main dish,” Cas assured him.

“How many courses do you get normally?” Dean asked. “I mean I can eat much, but that looks like too much for one person by a longshot.”

“9 to 10,” Cas said, shaking his head. “I don’t understand it either, it seems like someone’s wealth is measured by the size of their belly.”

“Yeah, for men and women alike it seems,” Dean said, taking a look around the room, seeing people gouge themselves on food that would last others a week, if they’d ever consider eating slimy stuff that came from the sea or fat internal organ puree.

Cas’ loud laughs about Dean’s observations earned him another stern look from his mother, but they both just went over it as they heard the Captain and Mr. Ismay talk about the journey so far.

“It’s all going according to plan,” Mr. Ismay clapped the Captain’s shoulder.

“It is. The boilers that we’ve put under fire so far are all working well, but I am a little preoccupied about the steering. It appears like the ship is not as manoeuvrable as it should be, the propellers seem a little too small for a ship this size.”

“Nonsense, it‘s all fine. You just have to make some minor arrangements to the calculations, won‘t you?” Mr. Ismay said, more to the passengers as to the Captain, trying to assure them that he who had no nautical experience whatsoever knew more about it than Captain Singer who had sailed the seven seas for over twenty years without major accidents.

“I don’t like that Ismay guy,” Dean whispered to Cas, who agreed with a nod and while they finally both ate, Dean told Cas all about the inspection of the ship where he had first gotten to know Mr. Ismay and that it seemed that he didn’t even remember Dean or Sam anymore, because they were unimportant slaves to him anyway.

When Lovejoy joined the table for a while, talking to Mrs. Masters and Mr. Ismay in a hushed voice, Dean came to the conclusion that he had been wrong. Mr. Ismay did remember him and he felt himself scrutinised by unforgiving eyes as Lovejoy and Ismay talked.

“Seems like he doesn’t much like you either,” Cas observed.

“Yeah, let’s just forget about that,” Dean said, trying to shrug the bad feeling he had off and focus on Cas. “Tell me more about you.”

“What do you want to know?”

“What you do all day, what you did when you were little, you know just anything about you.”

“I… I learned the piano as a boy.”

“Nice,” Dean smiled. “Are you good?”

“Not bad,” Cas said noncommittally. “Let’s see what else… I am quite fond of horses and science, though mother does not approve much of either. I wanted to study medicine, but as I told you,” he lowered his voice and Dean felt obliged to lean in again. “My family has financial problems, and mother thought it more prudent if me and my siblings married rich, instead of learning a profession.”

“So what do you do all day? Man like you, clever and knows lots of things,” Dean complimented him and his expression made warmth rise in Castiel’s cheeks. “Aren’t you bored?”

“Not during the last few days,” Cas gave back, wondering a bit about his own daring as Dean smiled as if he had just been made the happiest man on earth.

“So what’s next?” Dean checked the menu. “You kidding me? Lobster? What’s with all the sea food?”

“Well, we _are_ on a ship,” Cas suggested and Dean laughed loudly, both of them not even bothering to look over at Cas’ mother anymore because it was obvious what she would think of such racket.

“But yes, seafood is very expensive and therefore popular with the upper class. But don‘t scrunch your nose about lobster, you‘ll like this.”

Dean watched fascinated as Cas pinched and prodded at the lobster and then he just stole a bit of the meat Cas had revealed from his plate, hearing scandalised gasps from the other side of the table.

“It’s good,” he admitted, trying to get his own open without making too much of a mess, Cas pitching in to help with their faces only inches apart until they got Dean’s lobster open too.

“Thanks Cas,” he hummed and Cas needed every bit of willpower he possessed not to lean in and kiss Dean right now.

They happily listened to Mr. Andrews passionately talking about the building of the ship, Dean and Sam pitching in sometimes, earning some sour remarks from the ladies surrounding an exasperated looking Sir Crowley.

“Yeah, ice cream,” Dean grinned, again trying to forget about the icy behaviour, not only towards himself and his brother, but towards Ellen and Jo as well, who were obviously only grudgingly admitted here as well. Instead he seemed to bemuse himself as he took a big spoon full of ice cream, gobbling the whole scoop down.

“Headache?” Cas asked when Dean suddenly didn’t look all that happy anymore.

“Don’t tell anyone,” he groaned, stroking over Cas' hand once.

“Your secret is safe with me,” Cas turned his hand, tightening his grip on Dean for a second before letting go.

There were another couple of courses following this one and after a while, Dean groaned louder and louder, saying that he was surely going to burst soon, but at least the fruit he ate, which finally marked the ending of dinner.

“No more food, please,” he winced and his brother leaned over to grin at him.

“That’s a first. But I‘m totally full too.”

“Well, gentlemen. Join me for a brandy?” Crowley said, looking put out and in need of some time away from everyone as Mr. Ismay and Mr. Andrews got up and followed him, the Captain excusing himself to go about his duties now.

Cas pulled Dean up who groaned and held his stomach, eagerly joining Sir Crowley without his mother having to pester him into going for once, with Sam in tow who spoke up now. 

“Actually, I think I’ll be heading back. I’m tired.”

Dean and Cas joined Sam’s words with nods and Crowley winked at them. “Go on then, business and politics bore young people to death. Mind you, they bore _me_ to death, but it’s better than saying with sour and even sourer out here. I’ll see you gents tomorrow evening, and we’ll go into the smaller restaurant, where they don’t serve as much stuff.”

“Or you’ll just join us in steerage. I’ve been telling Cas about Irish stew and I think you’d both enjoy it.”

“Hmm,” Crowley seemed to consider. “My wife would kill me, so let’s do it.”

“Sweet.”

Sam excused himself shortly after, leaving Dean and Cas alone.

“So, do you wanna go to a real party now?”

 

Cas seemed a little frightened when they climbed over the gates again and went below deck, with it’s much smaller corridors and seemingly never-ending halls in every direction.

“Don’t worry. We won’t get lost,” Dean assured him, putting an arm around him as he escorted him into the main dining hall where the food had long ago vanished and the same rowdy party atmosphere reigned as last night.

Dean greeted a few passengers he had seen down here already, waving at Charlie playing her fiddle again. He led Cas, pressing a glass of dark beer into his hand which Cas lifted up and downed more than halfway in one steadying gulp.

“Careful.”

“What do you think a lad from first class can’t drink?”

“I do think that, yes.” Dean whispered into his ear. “I know for a fact that you get very attached when you drink and have to be escorted into bed. Not that I would mind that,” he rasped.

“That were special circumstances, I had never had that green atrocity of a drink before. This,” he lifted his glass a little, “is nothing.”

As if to prove that he could hold his liquor, Cas drank more even when a little girl asked Dean to spin her around on the dance floor for a while and Cas sat down to watch, people talking to him in languages he had never heard or didn’t speak, but the excitement of the traditional Irish music and the exaltation of everyone around him put him in such good a mood as he’d only ever felt when alone with Dean.

After his dance, Dean came back to him, looking a bit flushed and more handsome than ever.

“Come on,” he pulled Cas onto the dance floor and they watched as everyone tapped around them until they joined in, spinning, tapping and dancing in a circle until both of them screamed from joy.

“This is life, isn’t it?” Dean grinned as they got off the stage over an hour later.

“It’s perfect. I’ve never had this much fun in my entire life.”

“And you’re really not _too_ drunk now,” Dean noticed.

“You can still escort me back to my quarters if you’d like,” Cas whispered.

“Aren’t you tired? It’s 2 in the morning already.”

“You could just come with me and sleep there... I don’t want to be parted from you,” Cas admitted quietly, thinking of Dean as his lifeline, his only connection to the real world.

“Ok, but I gotta get back before anyone notices,” Dean agreed, leading Cas back out the way they came, making sure that Charlie didn’t have one too many tonight and was already on her way back to her cabin.

 

“Aren’t you impressed with this?”

“Cas, I think you’re forgetting that I built this ship.”

“What, you all on your own?” Cas teased, watching Dean helplessly fumble around with his cuff links and tuxedo front.

“Very funny,” Dean tried to tease, but his voice got too raspy by Cas’ presence and him helping him out of his clothes.

“Damn it, you’re just so…” Dean said, taking in Cas from up close and smiling as he stroked over his jaw.

“Magnificent?” Cas supplied with what he felt while unbuttoning Dean’s shirt, and feeling his mouth water as he started to undo his own things because as Dean forcefully showed him now, he had no problem with getting out of his shirt and trousers.

“Not really the word I wanted, but a good one,” he came over, stroking Cas’ shirt off him and drawing him in by his exposed hipbones.

“Dean, you’re entirely nude,” Cas blushed, seeing Dean’s proud manhood and desperately wanting to touch it.

“Uh huh, and I require you to be in the same shameless state of undress,” Dean grinned as he put on an upper class accent. “Please, Cas. Let me see you.”

“Alright,” Cas smiled shyly, nervous about the whole thing, but Dean’s hands on him helped, even as he was completely unclothed and sank onto his mattress with Dean’s lips on his.

“This mattress is heaven,” Dean groaned, pressing Cas into his fluffy pillows and moving his astonishing body over the other man’s.

They kissed more now, Cas almost squealing when he felt Dean’s touch on him, going lower and caressing his erection.

“What are you doing now?” Cas asked, seeing Dean lick his hand a couple of times, moving down and bringing them both together in his hand.

He moved and Cas felt that everything they had done so far had not been as good as feeling Dean slide over himself, both hot and throbbing in his fist.

“Yes,” he moaned, clutching Dean’s back as they moved together for a while. They were tired, but Dean's hand connecting them spiralled Cas higher and his need grew stronger yet, until he climaxed with a shout, Dean following him seconds later.

“Are you ok?” Dean asked, grinning down at Cas, completely exhausted now even as he kissed him again with drooping eyelids.

“I’m wonderful,” Cas intoned, pulling Dean down to feel his body and his warmth.

“Who knew I could be like this?” he asked himself, his hands trailing up Dean’s biceps as they settled underneath the covers.

“What do you mean? Having sex like this?”

“No,” Cas shook his head, holding Dean’s gaze even as his hand still played over the other man’s skin as he corrected: “Happy."


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm moving this along a little faster now, because I want to get to the final day and the sinking soon.

_12th of April, 1912_

“Mornin’,” Castiel heard rasped into his ear as the first thing once the sun shone through the bulls eye.

“How did you know I was awake?”

“Because you stretch like a cat when you wake up. It would be sweet if you’d not knocked my teeth out while you were stretching.”

“What?” Cas sat up shocked and saw Dean smirking next to him, his teeth still intact and his arms opened wide for Cas to lie back down after his shock.

“You are the worst of men,” he chuntered but laid back down. He inhaled Dean’s intoxicating scent which was a like earthy, a little wooden and most definitely not produced by any perfume.

“And you’re so snugly in the early morning,” Dean chuckled, pressing his lips to Cas’ hot and urgently.

Cas groaned, his hand reaching up to the headboard as Dean’s body slid over his own. He saw a wide smile and then Dean deliberately took Cas' hand to interlace their fingers, whispering. “Do we have time before breakfast?”

“I don’t care, we might as well just miss it,” Cas moaned, and bucked up into the other man just when there was a knock at the door and his mother burst in a second later.

“Castiel?” she asked, when the two men jerked away from each other and sat up, clutching the sheets around their hips.

“Mother, what are you doing here? And why are you up this early?”

“Do you really think that is the most pressing concern right now?” his mother asked, watching as Dean turned to the side to reach for his discarded trousers.

“Indeed, I think so. And if you don’t mind, neither Dean nor I are decent yet. We’ll be out once we are. But don’t bet on that being anytime soon. Good morning,” Cas said, his voice icecold and his eyes squinted until his mother left the room, fuming to be dismissed like this.

“Now, where were we?” he smiled at Dean’s back who was half out the bed before he felt Cas’ hands pull him back in.

“Seriously, after she caught us? You still want a-”

Dean felt Cas slide on top of him now, rutting against him and definitely showing him that he really did want another go.

“Right now there are far more important things on my mind than my mother,” Castiel breathed and moved down until he disappeared underneath the sheets, Dean feeling a perfect heat on him as Cas took him into his mouth a little awkwardly but determined.

“Less teeth and more suction. That’s it,” he groaned as Cas adjusted his technique slightly, enjoying the first time of giving Dean oral pleasure more than he thought he would.

He knew he couldn’t possibly be as good as Dean when he had treated him in the like fashion yesterday, but even so, he loved how powerful he felt when Dean squirmed and clutched the bed sheets from the way Cas’ mouth made him feel, before salty liquid shot out into Cas’ mouth and he felt Dean’s thighs quiver next to him.

“Good?” he asked nervously as he came back up, rubbing his mouth awkwardly and was rewarded with Dean spread out and exhaustedly smiling when he saw him again.

“Very,” was his only reply before he pulled Cas to himself kissing him more and coaxing an orgasm out of him with his hand rubbing up and down on him.

 

They didn’t get up for a long while, missing breakfast and lunch until Dean decided he had to show his face under deck so that his brother wouldn’t worry.

“You know tonight, I might actually would've got every last course of those first class meals down,” Dean grinned when he was dressed in the suit Mrs. Harvelle had given him yesterday. “I’m starving.”

“Me too,” Castiel smiled, pulling Dean to himself one last time before heading out. “I really enjoy our time together. Will you join me tonight as well?”

“Do you think it’s a good idea if Crowley sees me coming back here with you? You remember we wanted to have dinner in third class today, right?”

“I’m sure Sir Crowley knows what occurs here. He isn’t oblivious and I don’t think he minds. You remember how he was yesterday? With the Captain?”

“Oh yeah, I remember. He was swooning, same as Mrs. Harvelle. But you are still marrying Crowley’s daughter, perhaps he sees it differently there.”

“Isn’t it hateful?” Cas bit out, clutching onto Dean.

“What do you mean?”

“Marrying,” Cas answered. “And before long I’ll be expected to consummate coitus with her, produce offspring. I don’t think I will be able to perform accordingly,” he shook his head, sweetly rubbing over Dean’s crotch, letting him know what he required to become aroused.

“Girls aren’t so bad,” Dean shrugged. “Would it help you if I were there to help things along?”

“You and me? Having sex in front of her? And then to…,” Castiel couldn’t talk anymore because he felt violently sick and clapped his hand over his mouth. Dean held him, told him to breathe steadily until the nausea passed away.

“No,” Cas croaked once he felt like he didn’t need to hang over the railing anymore. “I am not prepared to share your affections with anyone. And certainly not with any woman. The family name will have to be passed on by my brother or sister, because I simply can’t.”

“Fair enough. You’re a man’s man through and through.”

“The whole concept of inserting myself into…,” he couldn’t go on because he felt sick again.

“And what if someone was to ‘insert themselves’,” Dean quoted him with his eyes shining brightly, “into you?”

“How?” Cas was shocked, but a warm, tingly feeling arose in the pit of his stomach.

“I can show you,” Dean whispered.

“Right now?” the shock hadn’t worn off yet, and the whole concept seemed utterly bizarre to him, but he knew he wanted more of Dean’s expertise because everything they had done together so far had far exceeded Castiel’s most daring fantasies.

“No, not right now. But eventually. Trust me, you will love this.”

“I do trust you,” Cas smiled.

 

_April 13th, 1912_

“Oh, look who’s rejoined the living.”

“Quit it, Sammy,” Dean groused as he hopped over the gate again after spending the night in Castiel’s cabin once more.

Yesterday evening, Castiel and Sir Crowley had held true to her promise and had joined the Winchesters and Charlie in steerage, both looking more exhalative than the day before while dining in first class. The atmosphere had been really familiar and everyone had greatly applauded Crowley as he showed everyone a tapdance and later invited everyone to cancan with him.

“Who knew you could have such a splendid time if you don’t have to worry about conventions or the like,” he grinned and had grinned when he had seen Captain Singer wanting to retire from the bridge after a last walk round on the deck.

That was the last that Dean or Cas had seen of him that night, and when they had gotten up to breakfast this morning, eating on the promenade deck where Dean, Cas, Anna and Meg talked animatedly while the elder women just sat there with their arms crossed, Sir Crowley walked in, still in his clothes from last night and a wide grin on his face.

However he had stopped looking happy when his wife had risen and taken him to their cabin, everyone on the promenade deck able to overhear their heated conversation as she started yelling. Mrs. Masters claimed she would not be made a fool of with the crème de la crème of society watching them and he should beware of what was coming for him.

After that everyone had thought it best to flee the scene, and Cas had whispered to Dean: “What’s gotten her unmentionables in a twist?” to which Dean had laughed loudly and hugged Castiel in a way that was so far from platonical that Mrs. Masters frowned and scoffed at them just as she stormed out of the suite.

“Perhaps we shouldn’t parade in front of her,” Cas was worried now, remembering how Lovejoy and his mother had already caught them in the act and it was best not to provoke any more.

“Yeah, I think it would be best if I made myself scarce while she’s on the war path. This boat is big, but not so big that we can avoid her anywhere. Are you gonna come down to dinner again?”

“I don’t think it would be wise. But let’s say, tomorrow I’ll excuse myself from dinner and spend time with you?” Castiel’s voice was full of promise.

“Too long,” Dean smiled, his voice a little desperate, but conceding that it was best this way.

 

“So this is why you’re back with us?” Sam wondered after Dean had told him and Charlie about how things had been after they had parted yesterday evening.

“Don’t make it sound like I don’t wanna be here,” Dean answered, a pang in his gut at his brother’s words, even though he didn’t even sound sad that Dean had been doing a lot of things without him. He much preferred this happiness to the brooding and pensive version of his brother he had endured the last few months.

“Cas just has an unfair advantage over us,” Charlie winked and they strolled on over the deck for a while until they once more saw Sir Crowley on the first class deck, waving to them.

“My dear boys, and Miss Charlotte. Charmed,” he kissed her hand with a small bow. “I am here to invite you to dinner once more. I will not stand by while my wife pretends she holds dominion over me, and I would be grieved to miss your company tonight. I have spoken about the matter with Mrs. Harvelle and she is very happy to lend you one of her daughter’s dresses,” he spoke to Charlie.

“I don’t know, Sir Crowley. From what Dean has told me, that would only exacerbate things, would it not?”

“Nonsense, my dear girl. My wife deserves to be publicly humiliated.”

“I really don’t know if this is such a good idea,” Dean shook his head too, but then he thought about seeing Cas again, earlier than tomorrow evening and his longing must have been obvious to anyone, because Sir Crowley only said: “I will see you tonight,” before he vanished.

 

So the three steerage billet holders found themselves in Mrs. Harvelle’s suite, half an hour before dinner, seeing Charlie parade around in one of Joanna Beth’s gowns and practically purred when Bela worked with her hair.

“Who knew I had so much of it,” she beamed at the maid when her updo was completely finished and Bela just put a handful of feathers into the intricate locks to amplify the illusion of height which was so on point with the latest fashion.

“Bela, right? Why do you work as a maid?”

“I left my family. They weren’t good people,” Bela quipped, clearly not wanting to talk about this, but Charlie held on to her hand and gave her a very obvious smile which Bela returned shortly, but definitive.

“Looks like you got yourself a flame,” Dean said to her when everyone was busy. “Seems to me like everyone’s got a secret life here now.”

“Well, we are practically royal, since we’re gonna be elbow to elbow with first class snobs, so we‘re entitled, right?” Charlie giggled as they went down to dinner, Mrs. Harvelle and her daughter both escorted by Sam.

“There’s Sir Crowley,” Sam said just now and Dean’s heart jumped when he saw that Cas stood right there next to him and from the way pleased shock and concern flashed on his face, Dean knew their presence was a surprise for him.

“There we all are,” Crowley grinned and led them to a table that was laid for 8 people and the last free place was soon occupied by the Captain, who engaged in a familiar talk with Crowley as soon as he sat down.

“This is gonna be a disaster, right? There is no space for mum, or his wife and Meg. By the way, Meg gave me something this afternoon. Look,” Cas got a necklace out of his pocket which made Dean’s breath stop for a while before he whistled impressed.

“That thing has got to be worth millions. What is it? A sapphire?”

“A diamond.”

“But it’s blue?” Dean asked, confusion on his face, so Cas needed a while to just admire how Dean’s lips looked when opened and his eyes seeming wider than usual because he didn’t understand.

“It’s very rare. But it _is_ a diamond. It was worn by Louis seize… the sixteenth,” he clarified when Dean’s confusion made him seem even more kissable than before.

“Why doesn’t she want it?”

“Because she said that her mother bought it for her, even though it’s really not her style and she’d never wear it because it seems to decadent, and because she…,” he forgot what he was gonna say because his mother and Mrs. Masters came into the salon now and looked exceptionally shocked at the lack of room for them on the family table.

Dean noticed heads turning and vicious smiles showing on some faces, until an angry humming started in the room, quiet conversations which seemed to sting the two women like bees, until a few laughs echoed through the room because they simply stood there, rejected and cast out.

Mrs. Master’s sharp eye fell on Dean holding the necklace and it didn’t seem to help that he let it disappear into his pocket, so as not to offend her. If anything it seemed to make her more angry, before she turned on her heel and stormed out of the room, followed by more vicious laughs.

“Is this what you wanted?” the Captain asked Crowley now, who only grinned smugly and ordered more champagne for everyone.

“Don’t worry, love. She’ll only be angry for a small while but she needed to know she has nothing to hold over me,” Crowley now made it extremely obvious that he shared something very similar to what Dean and Cas had with the Captain.

“I told you so. You owe me a fiver,” Dean whispered into Cas’ ear.

“Why don’t you just keep the necklace and we’ll call it even?”

“What? No, that’s yours, it would look stupid on me and you actually got the eyes to pull it off.”

“Did you know that it is called 'la coeur de la mer'? The heart of the ocean? So, what would you think it signifies when someone who has the same eye colour as the ocean chooses to give this to someone as a present?”

“That you’re giving me your heart?” Dean asked, his voice scratchy and moved.

“Indeed,” Cas grinned squeezing Dean’s hand gently once, but then letting go quickly.

 

The rest of this particular dinner party actually deserved the name because everyone was light heartened and enjoyed each other’s company.

They found out that the sourly attitude of the Captain was not because of his hatred for humanity, it was a sign that he had to deal too often with the sort of people assembled around them. He informed them of Mr. Ismay entreating him to go even faster and work the engines at their full capacity.

“And I might as well have done that to have this crossing over earlier and finally retire from public life.”

“You deserve some rest,” Crowley said. “I have a house in the country we could go because I’m tired of society as well. They’re all hypocrites.”

“Stop trying to sweet talk me in public, you old fool. And don’t tell me things I already know.”

“So polite,” Crowley purred and if Dean wasn’t much mistaken, the Captain blushed when he looked at Crowley again.

“Match made in heaven,” he smiled.

“Or hell,” Cas supplied when the sourly old men frowned at each other before starting to smile again.

In the middle of dinner, Charlie said she missed her fiddle and actually jumped up when the band had a few minutes breathing pause and played one of the more famous songs from below deck and within minutes, the whole room was dancing before she sat down with a curtsey to the musician whose instrument she had used. They all very much enjoyed themselves, and it felt like lifelong friendship were forming, indeed very close to a familiar bond between them all. 

 

After they were done with dinner, they all went their separate ways. Charlie followed Mrs. Harvelle and her daughter and if Dean had learned anything about this girl during the last couple of days, he knew that the Harvelle’s maid was gonna have company tonight. Sir Crowley took a different route than the familiar one to the B deck and it was very obvious to them that he was going to the Captain’s suite whereas Dean and Cas did not know where to go now.

“Your cabin is probably out of the question, right? With _her_ close by?”

“Same as yours. There is simply no space for both of us in your bunk bed.”

“So we gotta separate?” Dean sulked even as his brother joined them for a moment and wished them both a good night.

“Perhaps we should. But not yet. The stars are very bright tonight and I want to watch them for a bit before you have to go.” 

 

 

[Art Credit](http://nella-fantasiaa.deviantart.com/art/DC-Titanic-AU-Starry-Night-292806131)

 

* * *

 

Half an hour later, they were really cold, but neither wanted to turn in for the night.

“We haven’t actually danced tonight, have we? We heard music but there was no dancing.”

“You’re right,” Cas nodded and his breath was visible as a wisp when Dean pulled him close, spinning around like Cas had learned in ballroom dancing.

“I have never danced like this with a man,” he blushed, and held on tighter to Dean’s shoulders.

“Then I should remain the only one,” Dean rasped, swaying them both around on the empty deck. “Cas I don’t have any grand jewels to offer, or anything. But I have me, and if you’ll have me too, I’ll give myself to you.”

“You’re really not very elaborate when it comes to this, are you?” Cas teased, even as Dean warmed his fingers underneath his coat.

“Cut me some slack. I’m doing my best here, seeing as I’m slow dancin’ and saying that I’m yours and all that. I can‘t say it in fancy French either, but Cas, I-”

“Please don’t,” Cas interrupted him and Dean immediately stopped moving, looking hurt.

“No, I meant, please don’t say it now. Otherwise I’ll throw any caution to the wind and will bring you back to my suite. I know you do, and I do too, but not now… alright?”

“Now who’s the one who’s not very elaborate here?” Dean teased, coming a step closer again and warming himself on Cas, as they moved for another couple of minutes, kissing goodnight before Cas climbed over the gate again, earning a warning look from an officer passing by, but he couldn’t care less because even though they hadn’t really professed their love yet, but the unspoken words hung in the air sweetly, just as the clock struck the 14th of April.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
> [Art Credit](http://nella-fantasiaa.deviantart.com/art/DC-Titanic-AU-wanted-to-dance-with-you-for-real-293739983)


	8. Chapter 8

_14th April, 1912_

The next morning found Castiel once more sitting within his familiar circle, but he felt shivers run down his spine. The promenade deck was heated of course, but he was still held in sway because of how cold his bed had been tonight. He had never shared a bed with anyone before the last days, but he now very sorely missed it.

Another shiver ran through him when Mrs. Masters, followed by Lovejoy and a very indignant Crowley came in.

“If you would all excuse us for a minute, we have business to discuss with Mr. DeLacroix-Milton,” she said to the three women who were keeping Castiel company for breakfast.

“No mother,” Meg stood up. “Whatever you have to say, you can say it while we’re present.”

Obviously not having expected objection, Mrs. Masters stalled for a second, but soon found her train of thought again.

“Alright, then. It has come to my attention that my wretched husband isn’t the only one who has engaged in a certain activity with someone who is not their actual or designed partner, and I am here to tell you that I will not stand for you to continue your doing.”

“I beg your pardon,” Castiel spoke up, playing innocent, even though he caught a meaningful glance from his mother, telling him that it was all over now. “Please speak plainly, for I am not sure I understand you.”

“Your acquaintance with Mr. Winchester has been noticed to be more than familiar, and I will not stand by and watch you ruin my family’s good name by parading around with him,” Mrs. Masters clarified. “Lovejoy here will make certain of the discontinuation of your relationship.”

“You seem to forget something,” Crowley spoke up now and it seemed like his wife grew even more angry at his hearing his voice. “It is my family name Castiel would we wearing, were he to wed my daughter. If I were to cast you off, you’d have nothing. You would be known for nothing but being a former protégée of society’s most infamous celebrity.”

Cas remembered Meg telling him that before she had been Mrs. Masters, her mother had been hanging around a man who was very charming to everyone at first, but only showed his real cruelty to a selected few within his inner circle of acquaintances. Among his numerous offences first degree murder and torture, and who ended up being imprisoned when his own brother alerted the authorities to his numerous crimes against humanity.

“I am sure the public would be vastly interested in your role in all this debauchery,” Crowley threatened his wife further.

“You little insect,” Mrs. Masters hissed. “Where would you be without me? I’m the one who saved you, promoted you in society above your standing of retarded gentry from a line of merchants!”

“Granted,” Crowley nodded courteously, his eyes glistening with anger. “But ever since the unholy day that you started bearing my name, I have taken full advantage of the means you provided. I used my wits, so no one even remembers how it was when you and your kind practically owned the ballrooms and venues. You’re nothing now, love. I am the future. And while we’re at it,” he figuratively hammered the last nail into his wife’s coffin. “I’d have every right in the world to divorce you, since you and your manservant are more than familiar as well,” he quoted her own words back at her.

Mrs. Masters coloured, but Lovejoy didn’t bat an eyelash, knowing that Sir Crowley’s words rung true, and ever since he had come back to work for Miss Lilith, he had come back to her bed as well. Meg had told Cas earlier that she wasn’t even sure of her parentage because for as long as she could remember she had always found Lovejoy within her mother’s quarters when her nanny brought her to her in the morning.

“I suggest you leave now and you two spend the rest of the journey far away from my family. Good morning,” he fumed, letting them know they were dismissed once and for all.

“You will regret this,” Lilith fumed back at him. “And you too,” he hissed at Castiel, pointing and ending ominously. “I will end you, but before that I will take away everything you love!”

They finally went away, slamming doors left and right and Castiel was left feeling colder than ever before at her ominous words.

 

Not knowing about anything that happened, Dean marched up to the first class deck, whistling and happy. He greeted the Captain who stood outside of the telegraph office, receiving an official looking paper.

“Captain Singer, I bid you good morning,” he grinned.

“Please, son. Call me Bobby. Captain Singer makes me feel so old.”

“Sure thing, Bobby. Back for another tour of duty, are you?”

“Yeah, business as usual,” the Captain nodded, perusing the slip of paper once more until he received another wire just a minute later.

“Another iceberg warning, Sir.”

Dean’s eyes went wide when he noticed the three or four similar ones that Bobby held in his hand.

“Not to worry, son. Perfectly normal for this time of year. I’ll adjust the course a bit so we’ll miss the thicket of pack ice that this,” he shook his fist, “suggests. Though the speed Mr. Ismay wants is still too presumptuous in my opinion.”

He went on to talk to him about Mr. Ismay wanting them to go faster even though the machines weren’t properly run yet and make the news by going 22 knots and arrive almost a day early in New York.

“I’ll let her go off the steam once nightfall comes. Right now bergs are easy to see, but not during the night,” he explained and Dean felt very comfortable with the Captain’s longstanding expertise at sea.

“And after this last crossing you will only be a passenger, right? Are you really planning on spending time with Crowley after this?”

“That’s the plan,” the Captain flashed him a rare smile that was only visible above his beard. “Crowley is even thinking about visiting you out west before we turn back to England. I would like to settle some old scores with your father.”

“You know my father?” Dean blinked rapidly, wondering why it was that anyone on this boat seemed to know him from before and had some sort of unfinished business with him.

“Indeed,” Bobby nodded. “When we were both younger, he’d travel the world, much like you and your brother did and we travelled together for a while. Stubborn old bugger he’ll be now, even worse than when I met him.”

“So what happened? Why didn’t you stay in contact?” Dean asked, being betrayed out of an acquaintance with Bobby, same as with Mrs. Harvelle’s family.

“We had a fight the last time we met, and then he went back to America, I started working my way up through the ranks at sea. But I never forgot that surly bugger,” he grinned. “Felt reminded of him too when you boys sat at my table. Not so much you, you must take after your mother, but there is a lot of him in your brother.”

“You can say that again,” Dean laughed and just wanted to tell Bobby about the fights that Sam and their dad sometimes had, when he lost all track of thought because he saw Cas strolling towards them.

“I’ll leave you to it,” Bobby smiled and clapped Dean’s shoulder before wandering off toward the bridge, rereading the iceberg warnings again.

“Hey there, gorgeous,” Dean smiled, but Cas only frowned and shook his head, asking the telegraph officer about a reply from his brother who hadn’t answered his first wire.

“Something happen?” Dean asked, his voice hoarse and sensing that something was off.

“Here you are,” the officer handed Cas the long missed message about Gabriel being very well off and actually having met an Indian princess with whom he planned on eloping before the rest of the family could talk him out of it.

“Oh Gabriel,” Cas shook his head and showed Dean the note even as they walked back to his suite.

Dean laughed loudly as they went and handed the note back when they reached Cas’ cabin, and suddenly Cas was all over him, pressing him to the door fiercely once they were inside and kissing him with desperation.

“Woah,” Dean groaned and pushed himself off, holding Cas whose eager hands already pried his clothes open. “I say again, Cas. Did something happen?”

“Yes, Lilith Masters is on a war path, Crowley plans on divorcing her and I must have you now, just like we talked about, show me how,” he pressed out in one long streak, sighing and grabbing Dean’s firm flesh where he exposed it.

Dean didn’t have it in himself to object to Cas’ proposal and kissed him back fiercely, his hands roaming Cas’ body freely, massaging his posterior as a sort of preview of what was to happen. Cas sighed contently, ripping down his trousers and underwear and putting Dean’s hands back on him even as he moved them to his bed.

They just sank down, Dean’s fingers finding Cas’ heated and fully exposed centre when the door flew open and Lovejoy, Mrs. Masters and two security officers burst in.

“There you see, gentlemen. I was right about the indecency going on here,” Mrs. Masters grinned and Lovejoy’s strange eyes shone yellow with mischievousness as both men on the bed tried to cover themselves up.

 

“What is the meaning of this?” Castiel huffed indignantly, even as his face turned red when he clad his behind again and tugged his erection back into his trousers, Dean underneath him doing the same, and buttoning his shirt hastily, missing a couple on his way.

“See, exactly like I reported it. My future son-in-law is drugged up and under the spell of the scoundrel. Arrest him now,” Lilith screamed and to his horror, Cas saw the officers pulling Dean up, and Lovejoy bending him down low so that he gave him a proper kick to the gut with his knee that almost knocked him out before kicking him full in the groin until Dean went limp and passed out.

“No!” Cas screamed, and now he was next. Lovejoy came over, punched him in the gut until Cas’ knees buckled and he had to see the officers carry Dean out, taking him who knows where while Lovejoy held Cas down.

Mrs. Masters’ face appeared in Cas’ tumbling line of sight, grinning deviously. “Believe me, Castiel. Your Dean will be in hell before we kill him. Lovejoy, show him the bullet that will do it.”

Lovejoy stoically pulled out a colt and shook out a bullet, grinning when he showed it to Cas.

“How will he feel, do you think? When the bullet pierces his heart? Will he think about you in the three seconds before he dies?” he rasped quietly, ripping Cas’ hair until his eyes stung and then let him fall like a discarded sack of potatoes.

Cas couldn’t move, his muscles didn’t obey his commands as he watched them leave, discussing for how long they should torture Dean before shooting him. The door fell shut, and Cas still couldn’t move, couldn’t even call out, just felt wave and wave of panic wash over him.

 

When Dean came to, he was in a completely different part of the ship. His sense of direction was off, through the blows to his groin and stomach. He immediately wanted to check himself for bleeding or broken rips when he noticed that his hands were cuffed in front of his body, and the only reason he was more or less upright was because he was bound to a huge pipe and propped up on a chair.

He took in his surroundings, shaking the dizziness out of his head. He was in the crew quarters, probably on E deck, a part of the ship he hadn’t been to often because there was hardly any wood panelling down here, but he recognised the filing cabinet that had been carried past him one day, built by another group of carpenters.

The two officers who had brought him here stood guard, and so far there was no Lovejoy or Lilith anywhere to be seen.

“How long have I been here?” he croaked, not expecting an answer, but one of the officers quipped at him that it was midday by now.

“Right, thanks,” he groaned and let his head cool on the pipe, pretending to be worse off than he was because despite having blacked out, the blows hadn’t been so hard as to incapacitate him completely, just being designed to knock him out.

“Hey, don’t be dying on us,” the second officer said and filled a cup with water, holding it to Dean’s lips but he pretended to be so weak that he couldn’t even swallow it, letting it drip out of his mouth.

“This isn’t even your suit, is it?” the officer said, but nonetheless clad him in the jacket that belonged to Bill Harvelle, Dean feeling an explanation due that it had been a present, but that would have blown his cover, trying weakly to move his arm and clean himself off, but making it seem like he failed miserably.

“Maybe later then,” the officer clapped his shoulder and just let him be for a while.

Another hour later, Lovejoy and Lilith finally came in, looking smug and if Dean wasn’t mistaken, ready to murder him. Something in their eyes told him that he would not be getting out of this room in one piece.

“Could you leave us alone with the prisoner?”

“I don’t think that would be wise. Your man has already roughed him up pretty good and we can not condone more damage done to him.”

Lilith sighed, handing both officers large packets of money that she had doubtlessly stolen from Sir Crowley’s safe, and with shifting, guilty looks they left the room alongside Lilith, who gave Lovejoy a meaningful look.

Dean sighed, thinking about them being damn cowards as Lovejoy ripped his head up and peered into his eyes, Dean trying as he might to appear out of it and unable to focus.

“Wakey wakey,” he heard Lovejoy’s voice and felt a slap on his face. “Looks like it’s just us now, right sonny boy?”

Dean mumbled quietly, inviting Lovejoy to come closer to be able to hear him and then taking a quick peek to where his assaultant held on to the pipe. Dean still mumbled as if his voice didn’t obey him while fumbling around where Lovejoy couldn’t see him.

“I didn’t get that, boy,” the sonorous voice said, but Dean had gotten what he wanted.

“Fuck you,” he cursed clearly now, and spit into Lovejoy’s face with a grin.

“You bastard,” the man shouted and hit Dean again before he ran off and dapped his face with a handkerchief. “You’re gonna regret this. We will tear you limb from limb and then you will beg for us to kill you.”

“Well then you’d better come over here, big boy. Can’t do me over if you’re there and I’m here.”

“You filth!” Lovejoy shouted and came over once more, rolling up his sleeves not to get his shirt all bloody and just seeming to notice that he was missing a cufflink as he carefully pulled the one he still had out and folded the fabric up meticulously, but never letting Dean out of his sight.

He knelt down, whispering threateningly into his ear: “I’m not interested in you, but if your pretty face is anything to go by, your momma is a real looker. Perhaps I’ll pay her a visit when I’m done killing you. Or that bro of yours is very fine too. What do you think, do you reckon he likes it up the ass too like his big brother? Because my, would I make an exception for that boy,” he added theatrically. “Tell you what: I’m gonna fuck your mother and your brother, and have your daddy watch it. Then I’ll kill them all one by one and leave your daddy for last. I might even keep you alive to watch it, dragging you all over the plains until you’re more dead than alive when we get to your home. How’s that sound?”

“Like you’re a stupid son of a bitch,” Dean groused and ducked from the next blow.

“Careful, that’s momma you’re talking about,” Lovejoy said, searching for a better spot to lay a punch to but Dean just talked on and got up suddenly.

“That’s a really nice plan you made there, but like I said,” he dangled the cuffs he had slipped by waggling Lovejoy’s missing cufflink needle in them. “You’re a stupid son of a bitch and won’t do shit.”

Lovejoy looked panicked, searching for the colt in his belt, but he couldn’t find it either, looking up with a flare of yellow in his eyes as Dean pulled the trigger of the weapon he had taken off Lovejoy after he had gotten his hands free, and shot him right in the heart.

“I’ll be damned,” he panted when the dead form of his enemy fell to the ground and all of a sudden Lilith raced into the room, doubtlessly having heard the shot and thought that Dean was dead now.

“Did you miss me, sweetheart?” Dean asked, raising the weapon, even though he was terrified of what he had just done and his hand shook as she marched towards him. He tried to shoot but missed her by an inch and then she just kicked the gun from his hand.

Lilith moved fast, kicking the side of his face with a rushing sound of her stiff gown, so that his head flew back and made painful contact with the pipe. Now he really saw stars and actually sat down again, while Lilith stepped over Lovejoy’s corpse as if he was of no consequence to her and came close to Dean who wasn’t able to react before her hands were on his neck and she pressed it shut. Her rings were cutting into his skin as she viciously rambled and choked the life out of him.

“You think you can treat me like that, you and Crowley? Make a fool out of me? I was the first in society, and no one will ever take my place. I could just leave you to the officers after what you did to Lovejoy, but where is the fun in that?” she chuckled, even as Dean weakly fought against her grasp.

Suddenly he heard a shot, and thought that it was all over now, she must have shot him and it was a blessing that he didn’t feel any pain before the lights went out, but then Lilith looked down at blood seeping through her expensive gown and without stopping to grin, she fell to the ground and after she dropped, Dean saw his brother, letting the colt he had brandished sink down with a terrified expression of his own. Behind him in the doorway was a white-as-a-sheet Cas.

“Hey fellas. You look worried,” Dean tried to grin, but nearly toppled over on the chair, only finding his balance when Cas was suddenly there, steadying him with his body and showering him with careful kisses while Sam just stared down at the corpses of their fallen enemies.

 

No one spoke for a while, Dean only holding on to Cas, breathing heavily because of Lilith’s chokehold and the sheer expense of things.

Sam came over, pulling a second chair up and Dean searched him out, holding him by his forearm, resting his head on Cas as he held onto him silently in turn.

“Self-defence?” Sam said, a first possible solution to their situation.

Dean only shook his head a little: “No one’s gonna believe that, not from a known sexually indecent guy,” he said hoarsely.

“But I shot her, surely they’ll-”

“No, Sammy. You’re not taking responsibility for this. I’ll say I shot them both. Mom and Dad don’t need to lose two sons in one go,” his voice really gave out now, even as Cas’ arms tightened around him, his shoulders shaking as if he was silently crying.

“How did you find me anyway?”

“Cas ran around like crazy, calling Crowley and me. We ran into Mr. Andrews, telling us where they would bring someone who was under arrest and then we ran off here. Cas would’ve lost his way if it wasn’t for me,” Sam told him, just when the door opened once more, giving view to Crowley and the two bribed officers from before.

Obviously they had received more bribes because Crowley just instructed them to take the corpses away, dump them off the rear of the boat once it was dark and scrub the floor clean when they were done.

“Boys, come along now,” he said as Cas and Sam confusedly helped Dean to his feet, but figured it was safe to get out of here now and questions would follow later.

The officers covered Lovejoy and Lilith up with sheets and that was the last they saw of them as they hobbled out of the room.

“They won’t say anything,” Crowley assured them. “They all know there would be a severe penalty for ever leaving you alone with them.”

“But what are we going to do now?” Cas spoke for the first time since he’d come in.

“As soon as we get to New York, I’ll report my wife and her manservant as missing, and since it’s pretty well known what she and him have been doing all those years, I’d say that nobody will wonder why they’re gone. I must apologise,” he said, stopping and looking at Dean ruefully. “I may have very slightly underestimated how wrathful she could become.”

“Just about,” Dean croaked, and let himself be led on into Cas’ cabin that bore no trace of the earlier uproar anymore.

“Rest up now. Me and moose will make an appearance at lunch and bring you back a little something.”

“Moose?” Sam asked with a frown, startled out of his shocked state for a minute.

“Well you are as big as one,” Crowley gave back, clapping his back and escorting him out while Cas helped Dean lay down.

Dean held on, staring up at Cas red rimmed eyes and when Cas’ gaze darted over him quickly, he hid his face, tears obviously rising again.

“I thought they had killed you. I thought we would be too late. Every second I lay here without being able to help you was agony, and then I needed a while to find you there-”, he interrupted himself.

“Shhh,” Dean hummed, but choked on the sound because it make his maltreated throat flutter. “Let’s not think about it anymore,” he got out and then fell into a very extended nap, sometimes startling out of it when the saw Lilith’s grimace of a smile in his dreams, or Lovejoy’s vicious face when he had talked about violating and killing his family. One time he heard a maid come in and set a tray with food down for them but neither of them stirred for long. Dean woke up a few times after that but he was always consoled by Cas’ soft breathing right next to him and fell back asleep.

 

They only woke up fully in the evening and when Dean stirred, he felt so rested that he needed a moment to assess why his neck was still hurting a bit and his stomach was feeling stiff. When he remembered what had happened, he groaned, startling Cas who had rolled himself together next to him and who turned around with a slightly pained smile.

“Hello, Dean,” he said, letting his finger circle around the shell of his ear featherlightly as if he was scared to touch anything else.

“My face look so bashed up?”

“No, but I do not want to cause you pain.”

“Don’t be scared. You don‘t need to be scared anymore,” Dean whispered and pulled Cas out of bed, telling him to dress and take a walk with him outside after choking down a few morsels of the food set out for them.

They wrapped themselves in and took a turn on the deck, people left and right greeting them, which was really calming their nerves about the whole situation because obviously word hadn‘t gotten out about what had happened.

Cas was just beginning to relax when Dean pulled him to a gate that didn’t lead to a steerage deck but to the front part of the ship.

“We can’t go there, it’s off limits to anyone.”

“Cas, really? We’ve been jumping those gates back and forth and now you’re getting screamish?”

Cas thought about this for a while and then simply shrugged: “Granted,” too emotionally and physically exhausted to raise further objection.

They climbed across and went all the way past giant iron coils of oversized chain links and other huge iron contraptions that he did not know the function of until they reached the bow of the ship, and held on to the railing.

“Ok, you gotta trust me now,” Dean said. “We’re gonna close our eyes, right? And then step up two of those bars. We’re totally safe as long as we press our legs against the metal. Let’s do it.”

“Together?”

“Yeah, of course,” Dean mumbled, letting Cas get up first and then following him with his eyes closed, his nose in Cas’ hair just above his ear.

“And now?” Cas whispered.

“Give me your hands,” Dean whispered back.

Cas trusted him implicitly and reached out behind him, calmed by Dean’s steady breath as he played over his fingers, spreading both their arms wide, even as the breeze of wind passing them by and the sound of crashing waves where the Titanic cut through them got really noticeable for them because they were deprived of their sense of sight.

Dean spread their arms wider, tangling their fingers together and then rasped: “Open in one… two… three!”

Both opened their eyes at once staring straight ahead into the sunset as the ship raced underneath them. They couldn’t see anything of it, just felt the breath of air around them.

Cas giggled in awe: “We’re flying!”

“Yes,” Dean rasped, still hoarse, but determined. “Because we’re free now. They won’t be able to harm us anymore.”

“We’re free,” Cas cried out, feeling Dean’s warmth behind him. They enjoyed the sensation in their stomachs for another long minute even as the sun finally dipped beyond the horizon and Cas moved their arms so Dean’s hands were around him.

“I’m also free,” he let him know. “I wanted to tell you yesterday. Crowley and I talked about a few things while I wasn’t able to see you and we decided I won’t marry Meg.”

“What?” Dean said, a bit concerned, but first quiet relief seeping through him.

“Yes, he said he’ll just adopt me because I’m as good as a son to him anyway. When I told Meg, she gave me the necklace to give it to the only person I’d ever love. When this ship docks, I’ll leave it with you. I wanted to tell you yesterday, but then the incident in the dining hall happened and-”

Dean put a finger on Cas’ lips to stop him from babbling.

“I get it,” he grinned, moving his hands to stroke Cas everywhere even as he lightly teased their noses together. “You’ve just made me the happiest man on earth,” he whispered and then he kissed him, not minding if anyone would be able to make out what they were doing. Kissed him hard as if his life depended on it, letting him know they would never be parted again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>     
>  [Art Credit](http://nella-fantasiaa.deviantart.com/art/DC-Titanic-AU-Flying-299105386)


	9. Chapter 9

After their little stunt at the bow, they decided it was time to go back to Cas’ cabin. Neither of them wanted to face going through dinner tonight and Dean got uncontrollably excited when they entered the late Lovejoy’s room where they went through everything they might use because neither Mrs. Masters nor her manservant would ever come to reclaim anything.

“I think we are a bit shaken,” Dean laughed menacingly as Cas took up a pump-like contraption and tried to marvel out what it’s use was.

“Ladies use this to clean themselves after intercourse, and perhaps prevent pregnancy,” Dean let him know, and Cas nearly dropped it but then blushed and mumbled of it being of possible use for them later.

“Right,” Dean grinned, not feeling the slightest sense of shame as he went over and grabbed Cas’ behind hard and promising. “That’ll make it all much more agreeable. You still want that, don’t you?”

“More than anything,” Cas blushed and looked around the room again. “Should it feel wrong that we’re sorting through their possessions?”

“Not so much. We have to because it’s easier if the maids aren’t called to clean up, and if some of their things are missing, it looks like they packed in a haste.”

“I can’t believe they’re dead. It seems unreal,” Cas mumbled. “I never thought something like this would happen.”

“Do you think I’d know yesterday that I’m a murderer now?” Dean asked, his voice strained in way that made it known that it wasn’t because of the chokehold he had suffered.

“You’re not a murderer,” Cas assured him. “And neither is your brother. From what I gathered, yours wouldn’t be the first murder executed by _them_ …” his voice trailed off, his breathing too quick when he contemplated the danger Dean had been in not too long ago.

“Please don’t go there again. I do not know how to handle trauma,” Dean pleaded, crossing over and holding onto Cas. “I’m here. Alive and well.”

“That’s not it,” Cas shook his head. “I am just now seeing that there are too many secrets in this world, some larger and more abominable than others, and others… private and oppressed by society.”

“What do you mean?” Dean asked quietly.

“I mean that ever since I met you in the Rue Saint-Martin, I have not been the same man as before. And I have desires that are rising inside me.”

“And what do you desire right now?” Dean rasped, his hands feeling soft but calloused on Cas’ cheeks.

“I want you to paint me like one of your French girls,” Cas gave back, raising his head, pressing it into Dean’s hands.

“What?” Dean broke out into a surprised smile.

“As a rite of passage, so to speak. I am planning on being intimate with you, but I’d rather have it that you see me, find the same beauty you always draw and then we… you know…” he broke off, not knowing how to put into words what they would do. “The last thing I need is another picture of me looking like a porcelain doll. I wanna be desirable to you.”

“You already are,” Dean assured him immediately.

“Still. You’re the first person who ever really saw me, and I want to have a picture of it to remember it forever.”

“Alright,” Dean smiled and got his drawing supplies while Cas got ready, feeling incredibly exposed as he took off layer after layer of clothes and then clad himself in a thin morning gown he had taken from the pile of Lilith’s clothes.

When he opened the door to the drawing room, Dean was already there, sharpening his graphite pencil with a pocket knife and looking immensely concentrated, until he caught sight of Cas, the fabric of the gown he had thrown over himself nearly see through already.

[Art Credit](http://nella-fantasiaa.deviantart.com/art/DC-Titanic-AU-Like-One-of-Your-French-Girls-1-2-295312926)

“Right,” he cleared his throat. “Go over to the bed, uh… the couch.”

“Freudian slip?” Cas grinned as he pulled the belt of the gown open and let it fall to the ground with one swift motion.

“I… huh?” Dean seemed unable to converse and Cas felt very satisfied with the success of his endeavour so far as he laid down, not really certain where to put his arms.

“No wait, that was good,” Dean found his voice again. “That arm over your head, and… you wanna wear the necklace?” he seemed as perplexed as if he had only just noticed that it should be in the drawing.

“Yes, why not,” Cas smiled, deviously happy with how flustered Dean was as he jumped up and got the expensive jewellery, and very gently laid it around Cas’ neck.

“Since you can’t be in the picture with me, I wanna hold onto this,” Cas smiled, his fingers finding the pendant and smiling up at Dean.

“Right, artists can’t paint themselves,” Dean seemed really nervous, his fingers seemingly itching to touch Cas, but he pulled back behind his sketch book, his breathing shaking a little.

“Right, eyes to me and try not to move,” he mumbled, Cas happy to oblige, even though his eyes darted down to where Dean’s trousers formed a visible dent and had to stop himself from smiling.

He felt his whole body buzzing as Dean’s artistic eye captured him on paper, and both of them blushed when Dean’s gaze went lower on Cas’ body, both of them clearly seeing that Cas’ arousal couldn’t be hidden by fabric right now.

[Art Credit](http://nella-fantasiaa.deviantart.com/art/DC-Titanic-AU-Like-One-of-Your-French-Girls-2-2-295451938)

“I think you’re blushing,” Cas commented when Dean’s cheeks started glowing as he took up graphite from the paper and smeared it over the paper to create the illusion of shade between Cas’ legs.

“You know while I got ready, I tested the rinsing contraption and I’m pleased to say it had the desired result.”

“Right and when you say stuff like that it’s supposed to make me stop blushing?” Dean mumbled, adjusting in his seat.

“I’m just saying… I’m ready.”

“Right,” Dean said again very quietly, bent on finishing his painting now, Cas watched his flourish as he finalised it within 10 minutes and waved Cas to come over while he signed his name and the date in the bottom left corner.

“Not a porcelain doll,” Cas observed happily, seeing that Dean had painted his manhood from memory and not in it’s flushed state in which it was still, even as Cas picked the robe back up and hid himself for a few minutes.

He leaned down, seeing his body which had always seemed a little too gangly for his liking, appearing strong and seductive from Dean’s pencil strokes.

The artist in question nearly stopped breathing when Cas came even closer, closed the sketch book and climbed into his lap, kissing him in another second, whispering: “Take me to bed,” to which Dean nodded, his hands hot and eager on Cas’ body.

They weren’t to continue after all because there was a sharp knock at the door and Meg burst into the room, carefully averting her eyes.

“Castiel, I’m sorry to interrupt, but mother has vanished. Officers will search our rooms for any clues to her whereabouts and I think it would be good if they wouldn’t find you two here. Take a stroll or something, I’m sure they won’t be long.”

“Thank you,” Cas nodded as she backed out of the room again and he regretfully got up, pulling Dean into the other room where all his items of clothing awaited to be put on again with remorse at not continuing their intimacy immediately.

Dean only watched him hungrily, pulling him along with him as soon as he was dressed.

“There ought to be some place on this boat where we can be alone,” he mumbled as they stepped out onto the deck once more.

“Is it just me or has it grown very cold?” Cas asked, his breath forming a small cloud as it reached the piercing cold air.

“It’s definitely colder than the last days, must be passing a cold spot of the ocean.”

“Right, let’s explore this boat,” he grinned as they found the main staircase and went lower and lower, Dean having half a mind to bring Cas down to his cabin and see if it was empty, striking a shortcut through the machine rooms.

“Follow my lead and just run. We’re not actually supposed to be down here,” he grinned and Cas followed him, running fast through the furnace heat in the ships innermost core, past the flustered workmen, until they reached the first storage compartment.

“Woah, I can’t even see the door because there is so much shit in here now,” Dean commented, seeing crates and packages anywhere and thinking of himself as a fool for not calculating that the storage unit couldn’t be empty as when he had seen it last.

“A car, seriously?” he asked as he led Cas through the silent possessions of rich people. “Who takes their car on an ocean liner?”

“Someone who kindly provided a place for us to hide,” Cas said, trying to sound ominous as it was his turn now to pull Dean into the back of the car they had found, closing the door behind himself.

“Really? In here?” Dean snickered.

“As good a place as any,” Cas answered and pulled his lover close, finally to experience the most intimate sort of intercourse.

Cas laid down, pulling Dean down with him, kissing hungrily and taking up Dean’s hand, pressing it onto his crotch.

“Touch me, Dean.”

Dean followed his pull, stroking and fondling while they both got rid of their clothes now, Cas aroused and frenzied underneath him.

“I have to wet you,” Dean mumbled, sticking his fingers into his mouth, carrying it back down slick and mildly intrusive as the tip breached Castiel.

He bucked away from the sensation, but Dean soothed him with a hand on his flank.

“Relax, it’s gonna be better.”

“I know we’ve talked about it briefly, I just didn’t think it would be so strange,” Cas squirmed but relaxed when Dean kissed him more, massaging his erection until Cas allowed him deeper.

“Oh!” he moaned, as Dean’s digit met something that felt completely different. “This is…”

“Yes,” Dean moaned, softly moving and pushing the spot he had found until Cas was utterly ready to open his entire being for him, slowly adding more spit and fingers.

“Are you ready?” he panted, Cas’ hands clutching him because the pleasant sensation had long ago become heightened to unbearable delights.

“Yes,” Cas moaned and felt a blunt pressure where Dean entered him slowly and with controlled effort, the sensation no less strange than when they had started, but absolutely perfect as soon as he was stimulated again.

“And now I move,” Dean told him, Cas nodding, loving the fullness now as his legs passionately clamped down on Dean’s sides as he felt himself pierced and spiralling higher and higher.

“I love this,” he panted, not able to communicate better as Dean thrusted into his body, and started firm strokes on Cas’ erection alongside.

“Me too,” he moaned. “Faster?”

“Yes, please.”

“So polite,” Dean chuckled, his mouth finding Cas’ again, his hips rocking forth harder now and Cas’ passion rose higher than ever. The penetration, Dean’s hands and mouth making him nearly helpless in his pleasure so he lunged out, his hand banging the misty glass panelling in the back of the car as he climaxed without feeling any shame or restraint anymore.

“Dean!” he shouted, his hand causing a slight sound of suction as he disconnected it from the glass and clasped it around Dean’s shoulders. His hand felt cold even to him as it made contact with Dean’s overheated skin, and his grip tightened when Dean climaxed right inside his body and then came to a shivering hold.

Cas smiled up at him fondly, words completely lost on him, simply reaching up, searching out Dean’s mouth once more. He sighed happily when Dean indulged him and let himself sink down again, kissing for what seemed like ages; they were nothing but a bundle of hands and limbs, touching and stroking.

Their closeness soon gave way to another period of intercourse, which even though Cas now knew what was coming, had lost nothing of it’s preciousness for either of them.

“I love you,” Cas breathed out when they came to a hold once more.

“I love you too,” Dean replied with a soft smile, resting his head on Cas’ chest in complete exhaustion.

 

When Cas checked his fob watch an eternity later, it was half past 11 and they agreed that it was time to go op to the suites again as the inspection must long be over.

They went out the way they came and now that their lust was stilled for a while they wondered why the workmen hadn’t sent an officer after them as they illegally made their way into the storage unit, but it seemed that they had been far too busy to worry about the intruders, because despite what Captain Singer had said this morning, the engines where still running at full capacity.

Dean began telling Cas about what he had learned earlier when they came back on deck, and a great commotion broke out on the bridge when the lookout rung his warning bell shrilly through the pitch black night air.

“Let’s go higher, and see what’s going on,” Dean said pragmatically, remembering one of the survival lessons his father had given him and which had proven so valuable earlier today.

If John Winchester hadn’t taught him how to slip cuffs, he might not be alive right now, so he followed his next rule: When something happens, find out the scope of things and get somewhere safe as soon as you can.”

They moved closer to the bridge and saw the first Officer Murdoch they had met shortly during the tour of the ship race frantically to the steering wheel, turning the steam liner hard backboard, shouting at everyone to let the engines go into full reverse.

“That won’t do, we’ve seen the rate at which they’re going down there,” Dean shook his head, taking Cas’ hand in aggravation, peering out into the endless darkness, calculating how much time they could still have left until they’d see the berg the lookout had warned about.

They stood there in shock silence during the next 10 minutes in which the inconceivable happened.

The efforts of the first Officer were fruitless, because the machines within the gigantic ship were too heavy and slow for a speedy turning manoeuvre and with continued horror, Dean and Cas saw a gigantic iceberg appear on the starboard side, and felt a mighty quivering rock the entire ship as they passed it. Blocks of ice broke off the monstrous thing and hit the deck below them, where unconcerned passengers began kicking the ice around like a ball.

“Dean, I…,” Cas tried to say something but Dean held his hand up, waiting for more information before he could say something that resembled a plan of action.

When they saw the Captain and Mr. Andrews rush toward the bridge, layout plans of the ship in their arms, he knew it was bad. Even more so when the engines completely stopped and everyone came out of the command centre with deep dread barely concealed in their stoic faces.

“We’re gonna sink, Cas,” Dean said with absolute certainty, and obviously Bobby must have heard him because he looked up, his eyes empty and hopeless as he simply nodded.

 

“You tell yours, I’ll tell mine,” Dean said his plan of action finally forming, but Cas shook his head.

“We shouldn’t separate, not in a situation like this.”

“Cas you remember the thing about the life boats, right? We have to get everyone we love off this boat, and fast.”

“Wait!” Cas shouted when Dean already wanted to run off, darting forth and pressing a hasty kiss to his lips before he went, not even caring if people watched them. “Hurry back,” he whispered before he let go and ran off to the first class quarters, while Dean rushed through confused passengers to the steerage deck, punching an officer in the face who _now_ wanted to enforce the class difference and not let him through.

 

Cas reached their suites, his breath heavy and alerted his mother, Anna, Meg and Sir Crowley who was just retiring for the night, always with the same words.

“The ship is gonna sink, get out on deck and into a lifeboat. No I am not jesting.”

He panted heavily when he awaited all of them to come out and went into his own cabin, finding one lifebelt within, and binding it tightly around his body, collecting two heavy coats and running out on deck again.

“Hey, blue eyes. What’s the deal with the officers fluttering all over the place?” he heard Mrs. Harvelle’s voice in his back.

“Oh, thank the heavens,” he said with great relief. “Are you all here?” he asked, searching for Joanna Beth and their maid Bela, pleased to find all three in their lifebelts and shivering behind him.

“Right, splendid,” he tried to calm his nerves. “You’re gonna get to the first lifeboat they’re putting in the water. We are gonna sink,” he whispered when other passengers walked by them, brandy and cigars in their hands.

“Oh good gracious,” Ellen said, for once at a loss for a proper curse.

“Indeed,” Cas nodded, waiting with them until he saw the officers come out again, making the first boat clear, while the rest of Cas’ family arrived, and if they had disbelieved his account a little before, the sight of the lifeboats being filled was a token of his truthfulness.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, step right up please. Please, over here,” a man who was identified as Officer Lightoller waved the half of the first class passengers on the deck over to himself.

“Where are the rest?” Cas asked, and saw with utter contempt that the others were inside, ordering more drinks and making merry.

“Insufferable dolts,” Crowley cursed, while Officer Lightoller explained to them that it was just a precautionary measure to evacuate them into boats for a while.

“And at this time, I need women and children to step up first, please. Please follow me over to boat 6,” he motioned to Meg and the other terrified women, while Castiel felt all his courage disappear.

 

Below deck, Dean was in a different sort of panic, because after several run ins with more officers not allowing him down, he had no choice but to spurt to the main gate where his worst suspicions were confirmed. Sam and Charlie stood all the way up on the wrong side of the gate, in their lifebelts and looking squashed.

“What’s happening? Why don’t you let these people out?”

“Because the first class passengers are boarding first, and after that we’re letting women and children out, all nice and orderly.”

“There is nothing nice and orderly going on down here,” Sam shouted, his chest heaving in anger. “The water is already coming up on E deck and many people don’t understand your orders. At least open the gates so they don’t have to drown like rats!”

“Right,” one officer said, seeing Sam’s point. “Let women and children come to the front, we’re letting them out now.”

Dean was helplessly watching as Charlie and Sam made their way to the middle of the gate and Charlie’s barely contained panic as the key stuck in the hole, but once it was open enough, she pressed through and ran right into Dean’s arms.

He held her, his gaze still glued to Sammy who helped keep men away while another handful of women and children squeezed through the small opening until everything started happening at once. More men pressed and shouted and Sam was almost squeezed through the opening, until the officers shoved him back in and locked the gate again.

“No, Sammy!” Dean shouted, when his brother was disappearing in the charging crowd.

“I’m ok,” he heard him shout. "I’ll find another way out.”

“The small gate, down hallway W,” Dean shouted, even as Sam already made his way down again.

“Do you think he heard you?” Charlie asked him, but Dean didn’t heed her question.

“You have to go up, find Cas and get to a boat, ok? I gotta find Sammy.”

“But Dean!” she screamed even as she saw him run off already.

“Ok, no need to panic,” she breathed out a long breath and made her way up to the deck, now that she was on the other side of the gates, nobody obstructed her way anymore.

Within another couple of minutes, she had reached the first class deck.

“Cas!” she squealed with a barely there sign of panic twitching in her voice as she ran towards him.

“Dean found you?” Cas smiled, embracing her, but frowning from something that must have happened before.

“He helped get me out. Cas, they’ve kept us all locked in, and Sam’s still down there!”

“Meaning Dean is too?” Cas’ eyes opened wide, but he willed himself to stay calm, moving Charlie over to the boat in which almost all female members of their dinner parties already sat.

Now Charlie found out why Cas had been frowning so much, because his mother was having a tantrum right in the middle of the growing panic and confusion.

“I will not sit in a boat with a maid!” she shouted at an officer, who backed away from her, caught sight of Charlie and waved her over to climb into the boat next.

“And now a lowlife,” Hester shouted, her hands raised to the sky theatrically. “Am I to be even more degraded?”

Nobody knew where it came from, but suddenly Charlie had slapped the fine lady across the face two times in rapid succession, her nerves apparently snapping.

“This _lowlife_ is taking your place in this boat if you don’t move. So you can either stay on the bigger boat and drown with the rest of the lowlifes, or swing yourself over, sister,” she climbed into the boat, smiling at Bela as she took her place next to her and said very audible: “Nobody insults my girl.”

Cas looked at his mother with glee, as he led her to the railing without more protests and forced her into the boat with gentle pressure.

“You know, instead of bemoaning that someone will be rescued, you should bemoan your son who has to stay behind.”

“What are you talking about? You’ll sit here in a minute.”

“No mother. Men are not allowed in the boats, do you recall that? _And_ I’m not leaving without Dean. Goodbye,” he nodded at his sister too, who could barely hold back her tears.

“I do not understand,” Hester blinked, a first light of the understanding she denied to have shining in her eyes.

“There aren’t enough lifeboats, not by half. And I am part of the unlucky half.”

“Castiel, no!” she shouted, even as the boat was already starting to be lowered, and Cas and Crowley stood by the railing, watching the females being rowed off to safety.

“Doesn’t look very good for us, does it, son?”

“Not particularly, no,” Cas nodded. “Where is Dean?” he wrung his hands at seeing more people helped into boats, but no sign of the Winchester brothers. A quick checking of his watch told him that it was 1 AM now, and from what he could see, half the boats were already gone and the bow of the ship was already much lower in the water than the stern.

“We can only wait,” Crowley said, moving over to another boat and helping the officers by guiding the women to the boat. “Perhaps they can spare a space for us in the end.”

“Even if they can, I won’t leave without Dean. If we die, we die together.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please heed the still unchanged archive warning, and read this chapter until the end.

Cas tried to keep calm as he and Crowley kept on helping the officers to place women and children in lifeboats. He overheard the Captain arguing with someone alongside Mr. Andrews who strengthened his argument.

“The lifeboats aren’t filled to full capacity!” Mr Andrews seemed very aggravated. “For God’s sake, half the people on this ship are gonna die, and you heighten the number by not filling these boats properly.”

“Mr. Lightoller,” the Captain added with quiet authority. “Fill these boats.”

The order was definite, and within seconds more people were allowed in the boats than before, while Cas watched Bobby brandish a brass speaker and ordered the already lowered boats to turn around and allow more passengers to be boarded, but no one who heard the command had any illusions of it being obeyed. The people who were off the ship would never return to it.

 

_Meanwhile in lifeboat 6..._

“Oh for pete’s sake!” Mrs. Ellen Harvelle cursed. “Can’t you hear that we are to turn back? We need to take in more people! It’s 24 women and children in this boat and we got a hell of a lot more space!”

“I- I…,” the officer she was facing babbled, clueless as to what to do.

“We are not turning back. Can you see back there? There’s already people in the water. They will upturn our boat and we’ll all drown. You will sit back down right now and that’s an order!” the second officer barked at her, seeing that his colleague didn't know what to do in a situation like this.

“I can’t understand you,” Ellen shook her head. “Those are your man out there. Hester!” she turned to her bench companion with a furious expression. “Your boy is still on that thing. Are you just gonna let him die?”

With a shake of the head Ellen sat back down because she wasn’t gonna get any response from Mrs. DeLacroix-Milton, who was shivering so violently that her fur coat looked as if the nervous animal that it had been before it had been skinned inhabited it once again, and her teeth clattered so loud that even Charlie, who kept a grudging safety distance from Castiel’s mother, could hear it.

 

“Looks like that’s about all we can do, right?” Crowley said to Cas at half past 2 in the morning.

There were only the foldable boats left which were being built up right now under supervision of First Officer Murdoch.

“How many people in the boats so far, Mr. Murdoch?” Bobby asked him, trying to ignore the screaming passengers rushing by and throwing deck chairs into the water to have something to float on before jumping in after them.

“A rough estimate? 650, perhaps.”

“Right,” Bobby nodded and clapped his first officer’s shoulder, looking over to Cas and Crowley. “Every man for himself now,” he muttered moodily and turned his steps away.

“Wait!” Crowley shouted and raced after him. “Aren’t you even gonna try and save yourself, Robert?”

“Don’t call me that,” Bobby groused. “A ship should go down with her Captain.”

“We are going down. Right now. There are a lot of people that need saving in the boats. You should go! Help them, help yourself.”

“No!” Bobby barked, just when First Officer Murdoch said: “Are there still women and children here?” and when no one stepped forth, he said loudly. “Any others then!”

“Get into the boat,” Bobby said, gently nudging Crowley to it while Cas just watched on, numb and not believing there was an opening to be saved while Dean wasn’t here.

“No,” Crowley shouted, even while Cas and Bobby sat him down in the boat with gentle force.

“So help me Fergus, if you don’t get into this boat, I will knock you unconscious and drag your lifeless body off myself!” the Captain shouted.

“And what will that help me if I have to see your lifeless body?”

“You won’t see it,” Bobby said opaquely, a plan obviously forming in his mind.

“Don’t be doing anything retarded, Robert. Don’t go somewhere you can’t get out of when the water comes. Promise me that at least!” Crowley shouted at last when he found himself seated in the boat.

“Promise,” Bobby grinned painfully while Officer Murdoch looked around urgently for more people to lower away to safety.

For a second, Cas was debating with himself if he should go too, and felt like the was the lowest of the low when Dean ran towards him now, and he had even thought for one second to leave without him.

Dean and his brother came out on deck with a whirl of other steerage passengers.

“Dean!” Cas shouted and started running towards him, his voice breaking with relief and joy which was strange, seeing as he was surrounded by other screaming and running people that could not partake in the wonderful feeling that it was to close his arms around the man he loved.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean murmured, softly loosening their embrace after a while and looking around.

“I’m here,” Sam nodded and clapped his brother’s shoulder to assure him he was with him.

“Dean, they don’t let any men into the lifeboats,” Cas told them with wide eyes and barely concealed panic in his voice.

Dean thought that that should have been obvious from the get go. The men on this ship were still very much chauvinistic, but in this case it was more chivalrous to save the women and children first.

“We’re gonna figure this out. I tell you we’re not gonna die, and so we’re not gonna die. Neither of us,” he looked at his brother who didn’t look a trifle less terrified than Cas. “We’re gonna make it up as we go. Ain’t no iceberg gonna kill us.”

“Nevermind that though. You have to follow me, there are a couple of boats left now,” Cas found his wits again, panic obscuring his memory for a mere second once more, but being grounded by Dean’s presence now, he finally pressed out: “I know one that will take us in.”

Cas led them forth now, wondering how far his feet had carried him away from the safety of the lifeboat in his haste to reunite with Dean. Just when they reached the boat, they saw Mr. Ismay jump into it, and what was more, it was filled up to the brink beside that. Mr. Ismay was grinning deviously at them even while First Officer Murdoch stoically set his jaw and ordered the boat to be lowered.

“You win some, you lose some,” Mr. Ismay grinned at the three of them as the boat disappeared and Crowley’s eyes were filled with tears as he looked up at the boys left on the ship.

 

“Oh my god,” Cas breathed fast and shallow, his joy of finding Dean and being on the brink of rescue gone within an instant. “We’re gonna die, we’re gonna drown, we’re gonna freeze.”

He didn’t even notice strong arms closing around him once more as Dean took the lead.

He looked at his brother: “Got your knife?”

“Yeah,” Sam nodded, already knowing what his brother meant. “You?”

“Yeah,” Dean nodded as well, stroking Cas’ back in soothing circles. “We’ll get this,” he gave the others hope, while Cas slowly calmed down again. His breath seemed to slow considerably, while Dean tried to come up with plan after plan on how to save his loved ones. He kept no hope for himself because his main concern were to keep Sam and Cas alive.

“Right,” he seemed to decide on a course of action as he saw the telegraph officers come out on deck, obviously the message of the Captain that every man should fight for himself now had reached even them.

Dean let go of Cas for a second and walked over to them: “What’s the news? How long ‘til help comes?”

“The Carpathia signalled two hours ago and they can be here in 4 hours,” the completely dishevelled looking officer babbled nonsensically, not even remembering that Dean as a passenger shouldn’t really have information like this.

“Thanks, pal,” Dean clapped the man’s shoulder and got back to the others that just stood there, not knowing where to go or what to do.

Dean didn’t wanna let them know their odds of survival until they could possibly delivered from their peril, so he only told them: “We have to stay on board as long as possible. Keep dry and above water as much as possible.”

Sam nodded and turned around: “Seems like the people are headed for the stern. Let’s get there as well.”

They all agreed and threw themselves into the mess of confused, frightened passengers running away from the water creeping up on the top deck now.

They passed the band that had accompanied their first class dinner parties so often, and only now they fully realised that they had been playing all along. They also hadn’t been aware that the workers kept the electricity working until the entire ship was suddenly completely dark when they stopped working.

As they ran, the way got steeper and steeper as the ship sank faster than ever. By the time they reached the aft railing, Cas needed help to climb across it while the Winchester brothers leaped over it with agility.

Breathing heavily, they clung to the metal as the ship lifted itself up almost vertically when they suddenly heard an almighty creak of iron being pulled apart and the gigantic steamliner broke down to the keel.

None of them said a word, only huffs were heard as they watched in horror while the water filled part of the ship broke off irrevocably and pulled the part that was still floating straight up in the air.

The passengers still clinging to the wreck waited within a limbo of bated breaths and hopes against better judgement that the second part wouldn’t be sucked down but with freshly reawoken screams, the rest started filling up, nearing the water level slowly but surely to inevitably disappear below the surface of the ocean forever.

“By the way, I’m scared of heights,” Dean grinned at his companions who only frowned at him, terror in their eyes at 40 feet above water level.

“Yeah ok,” Dean conceded and assessed their situation. “The ship is gonna suck us down, but we’ll hold onto each other, kick until we reach the surface,” he gave Cas his left hand and Sam his right. “Whatever you do, don’t let go of my hands. When I say, take a deep breath.”

The gurgling of the ship grew louder as the downwards motion got more and more intense.

“Now!” was Dean’s last word before they were sucked into the ice-cold waves of the Atlantic Ocean.

They didn’t see anything, only felt themselves dragged lower and lower, trying frantically to tread water,

Dean’s muscles were already cramping by the time they finally felt the suction lessen and his lungs felt as if they were on fire. He didn’t know where up and where down was, while he felt someone let go of his hand.

He was disoriented even as his head breached the water and he took one long breath of much needed air. A dark head appeared next to him and he felt relief, smiling a bit but his happy sensation was immediately followed by terrible dread.

“Sammy?” he paddled around, searching. “Where is Sammy?”

“I don’t know, Dean,” Cas’ teeth cluttered and even in the dark, he could see that his lips looked too blue for his liking.

While he looked at Cas’ lips, he knew he had to focus, even though every fibre of his being told him to look for his brother among all the other screaming people in the water.

“Follow me,” he told Cas, his heart heavy, but he trusted that his brother would help himself after he had impressed him with saving as many of the steerage passengers as he could. He knew what his little brother was capable of, but that still didn't help him to blend out the sights and sounds of horror all around him.

He and Cas swam, trying hard to ignore everything around them, some of the passengers already dead, others still screaming for their lives.

Once they were out of the immediate field of the sinking, they found all sorts of wreckage drifting around them. A large piece of wood that must once have been a door caught Dean’s eye.

“Yahtzee,” he grinned, even though it felt like his face was frozen as it moved into a smiling expression when he recognised his own handiwork. “Shame it’s not _too_ dry anymore,” he still grinned and at the same time felt like he was watching himself fall apart and making inappropriate jokes in a situation as dire as this.

He still chuckled as he tested how waterlogged the wood really was, while Cas swam next to him.

“And now we climb it?”

“Not yet,” Dean answered, gritting his teeth and thankfully not feeling the need to laugh anymore as he swam over to the nearest corpse he could make out in the near darkness.

“What are you doing?”

“Saving our lives,” he answered, finding the pocket knife he carried around in his boot, another habit he praised his father for teaching him as he started cutting.

“Isn’t that a little… ghoulish?” Cas asked when he saw what Dean was doing.

“It’s survival,” Dean grit his teeth, by now cutting a fourth lifebelt off a dead person and bringing them over to the driftwood. He slid them underneath every of the four corners of the makeshift raft which immediately lay much higher in the water.

“Voila, I made a raft that'll hold us both,” he grinned as Cas and he finally climbed onto the door and adjusted to get closer, huddling together against the cold.

“And now?”

“Now we just gotta keep warm.”

They were trying to overhear the deafening screams that still surrounded them as Dean kissed Cas, and even in his freezing body felt a whirl of heat warm him.

“How long do we have to keep this up?” Cas asked minutes later, his face strangely lifeless, not panicking anymore, but too calm, even as he shivered in Dean’s arms.

“Don’t tell me you’re already tired of kissing me?”

“No,” Cas said, strangely dispassionate still and smiling faintly as he continued with: “I love you, Dean.”

“What was that?” a shiver ran through Dean’s body that wasn’t just cold and he grew angry. “You stop that right now. We’re not gonna do this. We’re not gonna die, not tonight. We’re gonna grow old and breaded together. We’re gonna get married. Trust me, one day we will do that and you’re not leaving me until everyone knows you’re mine, you got that?” Dean shook Cas a bit.

“Yeah, got it,” Cas answered, a genuine smile on his lips for a second, all his formality and stiffness of manner having been left on the wreck of a gigantic dreamboat that was no more.

“Good,” Dean felt himself grin, his expression literally freezing without his control.

“And we’re gonna find Sam,” Cas assured him now, seemingly trying to come up with things to say to keep them both calm.

“Why did you need so long to get back to me?” he finally asked, with nothing else but waiting to do. Waiting to be saved, or more likely to die. Waiting to be reunited with all of whom they loved which was highly unlikely as well. Waiting for an absolution, that would never come, not even for the people in the boats around them.

“Oh that,” Dean didn’t seem to help himself from smiling. “Me and Sam could’ve gotten out sooner. By the time I made it to a smaller gate, Sam and some other passengers had already smashed the gate from within. Kid still wanted to make sure that as many people as possible got out. He was amazing, Cas. After that we just kept on savin‘ people from drowning like rats in there,” he closed his eyes as if his little speech had exhausted him and got even closer.

Both of them fell silent for a while, watching the stars and individually noticing how it had gotten much quieter around them even within the few minutes in which they had talked.

“Dean?” Cas asked, as he moved a little, and if his eyes didn’t deceive him, he saw a light in the distance. “Dean?” he asked more insistently but got no reply.

 

_Meanwhile in boat 6..._

“You are gonna shut up right now!”

Mrs. Harvelle was at it again, this time with an oar in her hand and continued her speech with a frown as if she had never been interrupted: “Over there, they’re tying boats together. Either you will help us row there, or I will whack you over the head. Your choice.”

The officer whom she had threatened didn’t say anything anymore, only helped steer their boat to the designated place for relocating the passengers.

Once more people were inside their boat, Ellen got out only to find a very waterlogged looking Sir Crowley within the boat that had already made it’s first round around the field of wreckage.

“What happened to you?”

“Our boat upturned,” he let her know, but however cold he had to be, he didn’t let himself be escorted into boat 6, but took up and oar of himself to row back right into the thicket of floating dead bodies.

“That’s a sight you don’t see every day,” Ellen commented, sitting on his other side to assist the officers who were less cowardly than those in her original boat.

“Is there anybody alive out there?” An officer shouted into the calm, but horrifying sea. “Can anyone hear me?” he shouted further.

“I think you should have stayed behind,” Ellen remarked when Crowley started coughing violently.

“No, my boys are out there!” he croaked.

“Ok,” Ellen soothed him a bit, only to jump up when the lantern of one of the officers flitted briefly over an outstretched arm from a person who seemed to float on a makeshift raft.

“He’s still alive, Crowley,” Ellen nearly cried when they pulled the man aboard, and Crowley let himself sink down with a relieved looking expression when the search for survivors went on.

They found one more, recognising the baker who was so roaring drunk that he staggered and his voice toppled over several times but he seemed otherwise unharmed.

Crowley himself was the next one to spot a survivor: “Over there, you bastards. Row faster.”

Even with Crowley’s continued shouts, the officers rowed away carefully to the place he indicated and shortly pulled another man on board.

Crowley snared at them when they tried to wrap him in blankets and in the end, coughingly did it himself.

“You never saw this happen,” his voice acquired a vicious tone. “If one of you talks, I’ll tear your guts out.” After they had all nodded, he sat back down, coughing violently and holding the body they had lifted out of the water to his chest.

 

Three hours later, there was steam visible in the sky.

The officers waved their lanterns and told everyone who was still able, to scream for help.

The first boats were being hauled up onto the rescuing ship Carpathia as soon as there was enough light.

The women who arrived first, miserably stood at the railing as more boats arrived and were pulled up, only to be disappointed over and over when none of their loved ones appeared.

“Please ladies, make way. This next boat picked up survivors from the water. They are in need of medical attention.”

Ellen Harvelle led the troop of survivors, helping Crowley who was the only one who could exit the boat without major assistance. Next followed Sam Winchester, who had been pulled off a raft made out of several deck chairs and cut and knotted lifebelts that had get him over water long enough to be rescued.

After that followed a figure so completely wrapped in blankets that every woman who was still not reunited with her husband breathed in loudly and happily, only to be disappointed when the man was being led away without his face being shown and only the barest hint of a beard peeked out of the blankets he had been wrapped in.

The three of them, alongside the finally sober baker were being brought into the belly of the ship, while Ellen found her daughter and the rest of her party from boat 6.  
Charlie was already crying, relieved of course to have caught a glimpse of Sam, but two names still in need of rescue so obvious in her mind, that the first words of Ellen to her were: “There was another boat. Another that picked up people from the water.”

"Really?” Charlie asked, signs of hope in her eyes again.

“Yeah, we just gotta wait and see.”

The last boat was hauled on deck, and the officers announced once more that people were to make way.

Charlie started crying from relief when she saw a whiff of dark hair within a great mass of blankets: “Cas!”

She ran towards him to steady his flailing frame, his face sickly pale.

“Where is Dean?” he whispered and despite shivering violently, he freed a hand and reached behind himself. He tried to resist when he felt a pull to bring him away. “I have to wait for Dean, damn it!”

“Sugar, I think you should go inside and get warm,” Ellen who had just arrived said with her voice softer than usual, even as an equally pale hand closed around Cas’ and Dean, croaked in his back: “ ’m, here.”

Cas closed his eyes in relief that he wasn’t expected to go without him, not wishing to ever part from him again.

It had been bad enough to rouse Dean from his deathlike sleep on the raft while he still waved as much as he was able to get Fifth Officer Lowe’s attention, who was in charge of the second boat to pick up survivors.

When they had both been out of the water, the longest night of Cas’ life had continued with waking Dean up every ten minutes who seemed desperate to slip away and had only just survived the biggest maritime catastrophe of all times.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel kinda cruel for keeping the suspense up until the very last and would like to know your reaction to it.


	11. Chapter 11

Three days later, the RMS Carpathia docked in the harbour of New York City, carrying 708 survivors out of 2200 passengers that had been on board the Titanic.

From what Ellen told the boys, they could be glad that they received the privilege to be below deck the entire time. 

“It’s hell up there,” she rasped, sitting by Dean’s sick bed and feeding him hot soup. “Everyone cries all the time, and from time to time there’s screaming when they find an officer. They plead them to turn around, because their husbands could be still alive out there. I can’t even blame them for losing it like that, most of them will have to go back home, no way to support themselves. They’ll have to live with their families, and say goodbye to dreams of a better life. I can’t wait until we get off this boat to be honest.”

“If you want, you can stay with me,” Crowley coughed. “I already made the boys the same offer and it’s not looking like they’ll be able to refuse it given the state they’re in.”

Dean agreed with Crowley. After they had been fished from the water, Cas had been amazing, keeping him conscious, but it had taken its toll. Cas had slept the entire day after the catastrophe, which gave Dean ample time to listen to Crowley’s coughing and talk to his brother about how he had been rescued.

“I built a raft, much like you guys. And I… got more lifebelts…,” he trailed off and Dean knew exactly that Sam had done the same he had done.

He started chuckling, the very same reaction he had had in the water when he thought about the floating bodies around them and how he had made sure that he and Cas survived.

“You’re in shock,” Sam observed.

“Yeah,” Dean giggled. “Cas too. He got real quiet while we were out there. But don’t worry, Sammy. We’ll be alright.”

“Sure hope so,” Sam nudged him and then laid down on his own bedding again, the short conversation already having exhausted him.

 

On the second day, Dean had stopped being amused without a cause, but when they were told that they would dock soon, he felt the insane laughter rising again.

They walked out on deck, into the pouring rain and were led into a waiting hall. It looked very dark on the inside, and that was as he observed closely, due to it being laid out in dark panelled wood. 

“Don’t lose it again,” Sam said as Dean pressed a fist to his mouth, remembering how long they had laboured on the ship that was no more to produce similar interior design. 

He nodded, and held Cas’ hand underneath their blankets as they walked further in and found a spot outside of the general confusion. 

They were told to wait until the crowd had dispersed a little and the path outside was clear.

Crowley toppled over with a violent coughing fit when he wanted to tell his footman that he had managed to contact from the Carpathia to order coaches for them to bring them to his house on the fifth Avenue and so it took a while for Dean to react to his name being called in a pretty shrill voice.

“Dean? Dean! Sam!”

“Mom?” Dean asked tonelessly and when Mary Winchester’s arms had closed around him, he mumbled: “Mommy,” and something that had been locked inside him broke open. No laughter escaped him and as he sopped away in his mother’s arms, and he had the feeling that it wouldn‘t ever come again while he found the release he needed.

“Son, are you alright? We were on the way for days as soon as we heard,” John said, his younger son’s head practically on his shoulder as he clapped Dean’s back.

“I’m fine, dad,” Sam mumbled and Dean just nodded.

“When we came here, we were told not to hope to see you again,” John told them. 

“We almost didn’t make it. We didn’t get into a boat and had to improvise.”

John nodded at him, his eyes shining strangely. He coughed, and smiled fondly: “My survival training good for something in the end?”

“Yes, Sir,” Sam’s muffled voice was audible through Mr. Winchester’s plaid work clothes.

“I’ll be damned,” John still smiled.

“Then let’s go,” Mary wiped her nose. “Get you warm.”

“Wait, mom. We uh… we didn’t know you’d come, so we made arrangements…”

“To stay with me,” Crowley said hoarsely now. “Name’s Crowley. If you don’t mind, Mr. and Mrs. Winchester, there is plenty of room for you also, if you’d please.”

“We’re no charity cases,” John wanted to start raising objection, but Crowley waved him off.

“It would be my pleasure and much more comfortable all around,” he entreated.

“I don’t think-”

“John, he’s offering,” Mary interrupted her husband gently but firmly and then her eyes wandered over the rest of the people assembled. Meg, Charlie, Bela, Anna, an eerily quiet Hester, and: “Ellen? Ellen Harvelle?”

“Hey, sugar. Miss me?” Ellen grinned and finally came over to greet her long-missed friend.

“John,” she rasped and sounded like she swallowed something up when her eye fell on the tall man still holding onto Sam, after she had given Mary her hand and both had tears in their eyes.

“Ellen,” he nodded, his gentle smile gone, and slight confusion on his brow. 

“It’s good to see you,” Mary smiled, and let her eyes trail on. “Can this be little Jo? The last time I saw you, you couldn’t even eat carrot mush yet. My how you’ve grown.”

“Right,” Ellen cleared her throat, brash because it was evident to all that she was close to tears about the reunion of long-missed friends. “Let’s go then, shall we?” she looked at Crowley, who nodded.

“Wait a second,” Dean collected himself. “Mom, this is my- This is Cas,” he turned around and reached out his hand to Cas who had stood a little further away, seemingly shy.

“This is your Cas?” Mary asked and then walked over, holding out her hand with a smile and embracing Cas too, once he was close enough. “Dean has told me so much about you.”

“Yeah, we’re uh… you know,” Dean’s voice trailed off. He had told his mother all about what had happened in his letters but he wasn’t sure how much his father knew. 

John sure seemed to have something to say, but Mary already took deciding steps, when she smiled at Cas and said: “Welcome to the family, Castiel.”

“Hold on a minute there,” Hester began, even as Cas’ eyes filled with water and he smiled at Mary who accepted him and his role in Dean’s life immediately.

“Castiel!” Hester almost screeched when she saw his reaction to being so heartily welcomed and seemingly the only one who still thought that Cas and Meg still more between them than ties of friendship.

“Mother? Do me the favour of shutting up? Forever?” Cas answered her without looking back and gave Mary his arm while Dean grinned at him from the other side of his mother while she steadied both of them out of the hall and into the coaches that Sir Crowley had ordered.

John and Sam also got into their coach and Mary smiled at her boys in a way that told John he wasn’t allowed to say a word until he had seen what was actually going on and make his mind up when he saw how happy Dean was.

“So, you’ve met Ellen. And how was that red headed girl that stood so close to them as well?” Mary asked, drying her eyes with her handkerchief.

“That’s Charlie… uh, Charlotte Ryan. She’s to work for Thomas Edison.”

“And that older man who was so wrapped up next to Sir Crowley?”

“Oh, that. You have to promise that you’ll never tell anyone.”

“Of course,” Mary answered quietly, taken aback by the intensity of Dean’s words.

“Because it’s important that no one knows he’s alive,” Dean entreated and then took a steadying breath: “It’s Captain Singer. Crowley pulled him from the water against his will, and saved him.”

“I see. That would indeed be problematic if that got out, the papers are looking for a scapegoat. Why did he do it if the Captain didn‘t even want to be saved?”

“Because he is to Crowley as Cas is to me,” Dean answered and Mary had to brandish a handkerchief again.

“Hold up a second,” John said from the other side of the coach. “Captain Robert Singer?”

“Yes, he told me that you two know each other. Maybe open up a grumpy old man club together, now that you get the chance to renew your acquaintance?” Dean chuckled and from the way Cas smiled at him, he felt much better about a genuine smile showing on his face which wasn’t the result of suffered trauma.

 

The next few days were very quiet for everyone in the house except for Ellen and Meg, who attended the hearings that they had been informed of were being held by the American government. Sir Crowley had been entreated to testify at them, but since he was so sick had he could hardly speak, it was out of the question for him to attend.

Ellen and Meg brought back news after each day of session and Ellen was one of the very few women who were actually allowed to testify too which caused Meg to not rest until she could tell people her side of the events as well.

On the day of the fifth session, Crowley nearly threw a fit when they came back with the news that Ismay had been cleared of all guilt. 

“That limey little snake,” he shouted, his head alarmingly red and Mary, who had made herself head nurse inside Crowley’s house, entreated him to sit down again with force.

“Was to be expected, ye idjit,” Bobby snarled. It had been decided that it was safest for him if he’d adopt different speech patterns now, so that when he went out into the streets, he might not be recognised so easily. They had even gotten him to shave and wear a cap whenever he went out and it didn’t look like anyone suspected anything.

“Who of my- the officers survived?” he asked Ellen now.

“We heard Lightoller speak.”

“Not Murdoch?”

“No,” Ellen shook her head.

“Damn shame. He was a good man.” 

“He was,” Cas agreed, admiring the late First Officer greatly for the way he had handled the boarding of the lifeboats.

“The officer who spotted the berg spoke too. And the surviving telegraph officer. The other one…”

“Was in my boat, the one that upturned. He didn’t make it,” Crowley said after Mary had helped him to a sip of hot tea and his voice was steady again.

“What about Mr. Andrews?” Sam asked, and Ellen just shook her head once which caused them all a couple of very pained breaths. The ship architect had been well liked by all of them.

“And what we found out too was that there are more first class men among the survivors than third class children. They’re saying that it was not their fault that most of the third class is dead. They’re blaming the lack of English speakers among them.”

“Bastards,” Dean rumbled, still seeing the way he and Sam had stemmed open the gates, but also remembering what a whirl of languages had welcomed them when they had first gotten on board. There was some truth to what they said, but it wasn’t the whole story.

“Indeed,” Meg nodded. “And of course, it’s the fault of the British, because someone had to be to blame,” she rolled her eyes. “But they’re also talking about putting exactly the number of lifeboats onto a ship to hold every last passenger, which is something good to come out of this mess, I guess. It should have been mandatory before, but apparently something like this needs to happen in order for humanity to finally wake up. Fools and dotards, the lot of the establishment,” she cursed. 

Everyone had been quiet again after Meg had stopped speaking, thinking about everything they had been through.

 

In the morning, after Ellen and Meg had gone to the hearings once more, the post came.

There was a wire addressed to Castiel and Anna, from their brother Gabriel. He was glad to hear that they had survived, and was in turn glad to inform them that he was now a married man and he and his princess were very happy with each other indeed. 

“Praise the lord,” Hester exclaimed. “We’re saved.”

“Wait, mother. There is a post scriptum. Gabriel invites me and Castiel to visit him, and he believes that he can do much good in securing us a position at a university now. And we are to tell you that you are not entitled to a single, solitary penny of his money,” Anna summarised the ending of the long wire.

“What?” Hester seemed to deflate. “Are you telling me that my son will not support me?”

“That is what he says,” Castiel bit his cheek, in order not to smile at her. “But do not be alarmed, mother. You will still be able to work as a seamstress, or better yet, marry rich. I hear Mr. Ismay is a bachelor? A very vile man. He’d suit you perfectly.”

“Castiel, how can you be so cruel?”

“Why, mother? Be so cruel as to force you into a marriage that is based solely on pecuniary schemes? Perhaps you‘ll be lucky, and find a family that gives you security even without having to go so far as to marry into it. I certainly was,” he looked at Crowley, who had basically adopted him already, they only waited for a while to get the paperwork done.

“But they’re not your real family. I am your mother.”

“Family don’t end with blood, lady,” Bobby interjected.

“Yeah, and just because you’re blood, doesn’t mean you’re family. Seems like your son sees it that way too,” Dean said, slightly gleeful. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going back upstairs,” he said and was happy to find that he didn’t need a hand up to get out of his chair as he smiled at Cas: “Coming?”

“Absolutely. I am still very tired.”

 

Upon their coming to Crowley’s house which was very quiet even on one of the busiest streets of Manhattan, no one had doubted that Dean and Cas would share a bedroom. Hester had sneered, but not deigned to venture a remark.

When they came back up their bedroom now, Dean still admired the airy quality and it’s fine furnishings, but right now, he wasn’t in the mood to focus on it and only waited for Cas to come out of the bathroom attached to their room.

“Are you really tired?” he asked after he had pulled Cas to himself.

“Not remotely,” he answered, before his lips moved over Dean’s and Cas backed him into the bed, ridding them of their clothes.

“So, do you want to?”

“I’m ready for you,” Cas answered with a loud moan, rutting together and directing Dean’s hand deep between his legs. 

“That you are. What’s that slick stuff inside you, my love?”

“Oil,” Cas rasped when he felt Dean’s fingers moving inside him.

“So quick on the uptake,” Dean smiled, massaging Cas deeply and widening him until Cas sat down on him with flourish.

“This feels so good, much better even now that I know what to expect,” he breathed, holding onto Dean’s shoulders and began moving.

“You feel so perfect,” Dean moaned, licking through the residue of his wet kisses on Cas’ shoulder and neck. 

“So do you,” Cas panted, adjusting them so he could clasp the headboard and move more forcefully.

“Cas!” Dean shouted, his movement stuttering as he closed one of his warm hands around Cas and let it glide up and down easily.

“Mhmm, yes,” Cas moved faster, bringing them both to a close within another minute.

They laid in bed together after finishing, the sun coming out of the cloud cover and lighting the room as Cas let his fingers trail over Dean’s slight stubble.

“What happens next?”

“What do you mean?” Dean turned to face him.

“I mean, where will we go? Where will we live?”

“It seems like we have options now, doesn’t it? You can go study, and I could too. We could go to Kansas and live with mom and dad, I’ll take over the business and we build our own house in time. We could also go into business with Bill Harvelle, even if dad is still too stubborn to reconcile. I bet mom and Ellen will talk him round eventually. Or we could stay here with Crowley for good, I bet he’d like our company now that Meg decided she wants to join the fight for suffrage here as well. She’ll be very busy and not have much time to attend her dad. And Bobby will stay here too, despite his grumbling. We could go with Charlie and Bela when she starts to work for Thomas Edison. So, what you wanna do?”

Cas thought about it for a while before he grinned and pulled Dean above himself to show him how much he loved him once more.

“Everything. I wanna do everything. With you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This seems like a good place to end this story. I like the fact that they can do so many different things now, and maybe I'll continue this as something that isn't related to the Titanic anymore, but that would mean deciding on what they should do next. I like the fact that everything is open, shows that in my little version of this tragic historic event, there is still hope for all of the characters to have a better life now. Except for Hester of course, but really, she doesn't deserve any better.


End file.
